Until Death
by hayniss-evernathy
Summary: When District 12 residents are forced into marriage with their "perfect match," Katniss expects her husband to be a fighter, like her. What she doesn't expect is a life with Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th Hunger Games. Hayniss-centric. Strong hints of Everlark.
1. Chapter 1

The sun was barely over the meadow when she ventured out from their rundown shack of a home. 23-year-old Katniss Everdeen took a moment to relish in the squeaking of the old floorboards, the peeling walls and rusted kitchen sink on her last day as a member of the household. It was the day of the first ever Marriage Reaping, and the day that she would be forced into marrying the Capitol's "best choice" for her.

When the population of the districts started to dwindle, the Capitol decided that freedom to not marry was a freedom that the districts did not deserve to keep. Each eligible man and women in the districts with no spouse and no children would be paired off with a member of the opposite sex and required to make a life with that person. They would be required to have at least two children during the first ten years of their marriage. Prior to the Marriage Reaping, each townsperson had to complete 4 hours' worth of questionnaires so the Capitol could decide who they would be best fit to. Katniss completed her questionnaires begrudgingly a few weeks before the reaping. She knew that trying to postpone the inevitable would only put her family in danger.

As she walked from the only place that she'd ever been able to call home, Katniss fought a sick churning feeling that rose up inside of her. In just a few hours, she would be wed. She would be at the mercy of some strange man, stuck in his bed, forced to make him meals, forced to bare his children. She put a hand up to her mouth and willed away the feeling of dread and bile that threatened to make an appearance.

The walk to the bakery was not excessive. She took the time to enjoy the view of the woods from her path, unknowing if her husband will allow her to visit the bakery or go hunting. He may keep her isolated in the house to tend to his needs. She noted every tree, every twig and rock and speck and bird like it would be the last time she ever saw any of it. The walk didn't seem to take long enough.

Katniss knocked quietly on the back door of the bakery and hoped that, by some grace or luck, her fate would not be as ugly as she expected. Maybe she would be paired with a nice man who never expected her to do anything at all for him. _Yeah right, Katniss. Because life always works out that well, doesn't it? _

The door opened and Peeta peeked his head out. At the sight of her, he smiled widely and stepped out to join her, shutting the door quietly to avoid alerting his mother that he was escaping his bakery duties. At once, he pulled her into a tight embrace and she felt the shaking and jerking of his muscles on her. Gently, she rubbed his back and held him tighter.

"We'll be fine, Peeta. I'm sure your spouse will be kind and wonderful. She will be your perfect match." She whispered in his ear. To any outsider, the moment probably looked intimate in a way that supplanted their long-standing friendship

"_You_ are my perfect match." He whispered back to her. She shook her head at him and broke the embrace.

"You can't talk like that anymore, Peeta. We'll always be friends… That's all we can ever be now." She told him, rubbing a hand on his exposed arm and turning away. "I came here to say goodbye. I don't know what is going to happen after the reaping, but I don't want to leave things unsaid between us."

She looked away as he gave her a fearful and wounded expression. Her friendship with Peeta had endured more than anything else in her life. They met on the first day of Kindergarten. Peeta approached her at recess and asked her if she wanted to get married to him. She spit on the ground near his shoe and told him that she would only marry someone who could bring her as much candy as she wanted. The next day, Peeta approached her with a sugary cupcake that he had smuggled out of the bakery. The frosting was smeared and the cake was slightly smashed, but Peeta succeeded in winning over Katniss for the time being. She informed him that he would have to start bringing two treats when her baby sister was born and old enough to enjoy them too. Peeta accepted that challenge. They played together at recess every day for the rest of their elementary years.

As the years went on, Katniss and Peeta stayed friends. When Katniss's dad passed away, Peeta held her hand at the funeral and made sure everyone at school was nice to her when she came back. He made her a card and colored a picture of her walking with her dad, hand-in-hand, on the cover. That was the first time Peeta saw her cry. The year of their first reaping, Peeta brought Katniss a bag full of cheese buns and they shared their first kiss. Katniss didn't want to die without a kiss, and Peeta didn't want to die without a kiss from Katniss. Each reaping, they would share a simple kiss. Before their final reaping, Peeta gave Katniss her first orgasm and she cried in front of him for only the second time ever. Though Peeta was brought up in a Merchant home, and Katniss came from a poor, starving family in the Seam, most of the townfolks assumed that the two of them would eventually get married and start a family of their own.

Thanks to the Capitol and the new marriage reaping, that future was no longer a possibility. Not that Katniss wanted to marry Peeta... She never planned on marrying or having children. Though if someone had put a gun to her head and forced her to choose a spouse, it definitely would have been Peeta. But unless she was forced, she was not going to settle down with anybody.

_Peeta deserves better than me. He wants kids and a cozy home. I just want to survive. _

"If it weren't for the reaping and the new rules, would you marry me?" He asked her, looking hopefully at her with watery blue eyes. "Would we have children someday? Can you see that, Katniss?"

She closed her eyes as the images he'd described seemed to assault her every sense. The smell of bread and cake on his skin as they climbed into bed together; a tiny blonde child running into Peeta's arms and laughing as Peeta spun him around and around; a quaint home in-between the seam and the merchant quarter, with a porch table she would use to skin her kills that Peeta would cook into all kinds of delicacies.

"It can't happen now. We might as well not focus on what could have been… We're both getting married today."

"Maybe we will get paired with each other. Maybe we are a perfect match and the tests will decide so too." Peeta choked as he grabbed her back into his arms and hugged her more tightly than she had ever been hugged. Realizing the foolishness of his hope, he sobbed into her shoulder. "I hope he treats you like a princess, Katniss. I hope he is good to you."

Holding back a flood of her own tears, Katniss told him that she hoped the same for him. Though she was never able to fully love and appreciate Peeta in the same way that he did her, she knew that there was no one better in the district to be stuck with for life. She hoped his wife would realize that she was the luckiest woman to marry Peeta Mellark.

Before she parted from him, he handed her a bag of cookies.

"If he doesn't let you see me, or let you have sweets, save some and think of me, okay? If he hurts you, come find me, Katniss. We can run away together. We can. Just be safe. Promise?" She nodded at his words and he looked desperately at her. "Promise me you will be safe. I need you to promise."

"I promise. I will do my best to stay safe," she swore to him before tucking the bag under her arm and sending him the most reassuring smile that she could muster up. "I have to meet Gale for a few hours. We want to leave our families with enough to eat… Just in case."

Peeta nodded and turned to go back into the bakery. "If I see Prim around, I'll make sure she has enough to eat too."

Katniss reached out to give him fingers a squeeze before she turned away. It was hard enough leaving her home and her sister. Leaving Peeta as well felt like a punch to the gut. The marriage reaping seemed like more of an injustice as each agonizing moment went by.

!

After dropping the bag off for Prim at the house, Katniss snuck under the fence and ventured into the woods. Like her walk to town, she tried to take in as much of her surroundings as she could. She wanted a mental picture of the place that the loved the most. She needed a way to recall her life of freedom while she was stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of her days.

If surviving each reaping without having her name called was just a prelude to a life sentence of playing house with a stranger, Katniss was no longer sure why she was so afraid of the Hunger Games. Sure, she would be forced to kill other kids and probably be murdered in a vicious way. But at least she would know how things were going to happen. With the marriage reaping, she could end up with a man who rapes her every night. She could end up with a man who beats her and treats her like a slave. She could end up with a man who expects her to bear 10 children and raise them all while he works in the mines. She could be forced to watch her own children compete in the Hunger Games. She could be forced to watch them die of starvation. There was no happy ending to the marriage reaping. It was a lifetime of servitude and torture that almost made her smile at the thought of a slow death in an arena.

When she got to her meeting spot with Gale, she noticed that his usual smile was wiped clean off of his face. This was no time for joking or joy. They both needed to provide as much meat to their families before the marriage reaping as they possibly could. Both of their kitchens were littered with dried and jerked meats for their siblings and mothers to eat in the coming months. Gale and Katniss had a long-standing agreement. If one of them was not around to provide for the families, the other would pick up the slack. If neither of them were around, Peeta would do his best to help. Thought Gale was not Peeta's biggest fan, he couldn't afford to lose an ally now. He had no clue what the marriage reaping would bring to him. He could be assigned a home on the opposite side of District 12, nearly an hour walk to his mother's home in the Seam. There was no way that he would be able to work in the mines and hunt for them if he was placed far away.

"Did you say bye to Peet-peet?" He asked her jokingly, desperate to cut the tension in the area.

"Yeah. He's panicking, of course. Wants me to run away with him if my spouse is a dick."

"You should." Gale tells her as they check the snares they'd set the previous morning. "Get out of here and have the romantic fairytale life that he wants to give you."

"What about Prim?" Katniss laughs, "Will she have a fairytale life with Peeta too? She's only 17, Gale. I can't leave her alone just yet. She doesn't even know how to hunt."

"Prim would be fine, Catnip. I would make sure she doesn't starve. Her and Rory are already talking about getting married in the fall to save them from the marriage reaping. Though I don't think that's the only reason." Gale grinned at the shocked look on her face and started to reset the snares. "Not everybody is opposed to the idea of marriage like you."

"Prim is too young to marry."

Gale scoffed in her direction and shook his head, "Would you rather she goes through the reaping and gets paired with some stranger? They're doing it every 4 years, Katniss. If she doesn't marry before she turns 21, she'll be in the pool of eligible women. Rory is a good kid. I'll watch out for them."

Katniss shuddered at the thought of Prim being forced into a loveless marriage.

"You're right. She should marry Rory. That's how it was always going to be anyway."

"Yep," Gale said slowly, looking over at Katniss as he said, "Me and you, Prim and Rory. That's how it was always going to be. Until Peet-peet came along and stole you from me."

Katniss rolled her eyes at his exaggerated memory. "I'm not with Peeta. I was never with you. Are we talking about a different Katniss Everdeen?"

"You'll never understand the effect you have on men, Katniss." Gale punched her shoulder lightly and sighed. "It's too bad there aren't two of you. One for the baker and one for me."

"There isn't even one of me for either of you." Katniss replied, aiming her bow at the tree and shooting down a fat bird. "Plus, I never wanted to pick either of you. I wasn't going to marry anybody, Gale."

"What about before the last reaping when you let Peeta-"

"Fuck off, Gale."

"I'm not a sore loser, Catnip. If you had to choose a guy to marry, I know it would have been Peeta. You know it would have been Peeta. Hell, the whole districts knows-"

"Can you please shut up?" She screeched at him, "It's not happening. I'll be paired with some asshole for the rest of my life. I'm an asshole and I'm going to be paired with an asshole. I don't want to dwell on this anymore. Whatever marriage I have will be a complete joke."

Gale looked her over sadly and nodded. They finished their hunt in silence and vowed to meet each other before the reaping began. When she got home, Katniss skinned her kills and prepared the meat before taking a hot bath. Each eligible man and woman was required to attend the marriage reaping dressed in their finest clothing. They must be clean, made-up and looking good for their potential spouses.

After each couple is paired together, they will be given two hours to find their residence, gather their belongings from their old homes (if necessary) and make their way back to the square to partake in the mass wedding. After that, each couple was required to go back to their new home and consummate their marriage. Though the Capitol said that consummation was a required part of the wedding night, and every married female would be tested for pregnancy each month, Katniss planned on postponing that part of her "marriage" for as long as humanly possible. The thought of having children was terrifying to her. She hoped that her spouse felt the same way.

Once she was clean and looking presentable enough to attend the Capitol's joke of a reaping ceremony, she allowed her mother and sister to fawn over her and make her "look like a bride," as Prim worded it.

"I can't believe you are actually getting married today." Prim said, sounding more excited about the ordeal than Katniss would have liked. "Hopefully you get paired with a hunk!"

"It's not like it's my choice, Prim. I don't want to get married and I don't want to leave you and mom." Katniss swallowed deeply as her mom tucked one of her small braids into her hairdo and pinned it in place. "What if he doesn't let me leave the house? What if he-"

"You are smart, Katniss."

Katniss stared at her mother dumbly in the broken mirror in front of her. Cappie Everdeen was a woman of few words. Since her husband passed away 12 years ago, she spoke maybe twice a month. For the 3 years after her husband died, she was in such a deep state of grief that she did nothing at all. Katniss kept them all alive during that time. Eventually, Cappie began to come out of her shell and support her children again, but she still chose not to speak. Or maybe it wasn't a choice. Katniss wasn't sure. All she knew was that she resented her mother for abandoning them, and she wasn't sure she would ever get over that resentment.

Sensing her daughter's hesistance, Cappie continued in a stern voice. "You are a smart girl. You are strong. You've held our family together since you were 11 years old. If this man touches you or hurts you or treats you poorly, I know that you aren't going to stand by and let it happen. You will fight back and you will win. Don't speak as if your life is over, Katniss. It's just beginning."

Prim looked at her sister with a wide grin on her face. Their mother spoke more words in that moment than she'd probably said in the previous year of her life. Unable to find words to refute her mother's speech, Katniss nodded softly and tried to believe that she was as strong and smart as she'd been told.

!

Her mother and Prim stood behind the divider in the back of the square, like parents who were waiting for their children to be reaped. Cappie wasn't eligible for the marriage reaping because of her two children. Prim was a year too young. Katniss was relieved that her mom and sister would not be forced to endure the same fate that she was facing.

The groups were split into two: male and females. Katniss peered into the group of males and managed to spot Peeta. He was already staring over at her and he lifted his hand up to her in a wave. She reciprocated the action and began to look over the rest of the male group. Most of the males were in their twenties, but there were still plenty of older men. A gentleman who looked to be the age of 80 was standing toward the back of the group. Katniss wondered if he was a widow with no children. How unfair for him to be forced to marry someone at the end of his life. Most people in District 12 don't make it past age 40. This man was practically an idol and he would have to share his life with a stranger.

The women's group had a fair share of older women in it as well. Several Katniss knew were infertile. What an injustice for them to be forced into marriages with the purpose of reproducing when they were physically incapable of doing so. The flaws in the system were so prevalent that Katniss wondered if it was more about control than it was about the population.

Suddenly, something familiar caught her eye. The gaudy outfit and enormous wig of the District 12 escort, Effie Trinket. Katniss couldn't help but roll her eyes at the fact that the woman who escorts children to their deaths was there to pair people off with a spouse. Marriage and death shouldn't be closely correlated in that way.

Effie approached the microphone stand with a smile and tapped on the object before speaking.

"Welcome everybody! I'm sure you are all so excited for the first ever Marriage Reaping! I know I am! What an exhilarating day for everyone here!"

A man approached Effie and handed her a large envelope. Gingerly, she ripped open the item and pulled out a long list. It reached almost halfway to the floor and Effie giggled happily.

"Our marriage list is here. How wonderful! I hope you are all ready to meet your new spouses! The list is in alphabetical order by surnames. I will call husbands first, followed by the name of their wives. Please join me on the stage and we will continue until all of our new couples are together!" Effie grinned at all of us, but to the credit of district 12, nobody smiled back.

Clearing her throat, Effie held up the list and began.

**Katniss POV**

"Our first couple starts with the one and only, Haymitch Abernathy, age 40, District 12 mentor and victor of the Second Quarter Quell."

I watch as the older man makes his way up to the stage. I feel sorry for whoever is paired with Haymitch Abernathy. He is surly, constantly drunk and generally dirty. I'm surprised that he wasn't exempt from the reaping since he is a mentor and Hunger Games victor. He stumbles up the steps and looks surprisingly sober for the occasion. His eyes are cast downward and it looks like the idea of meeting his spouse is making him sick.

"The wife of Haymitch Abernathy will be a woman by the name of Katniss Everdeen, age 23, daughter of Cappie Everdeen and the late Weston Everdeen."

The entire crowd turns to look at me as I digest the information. I've been paired with a Hunger Games victor. The only living victor in District 12. A 40-year old drunk.

All I can think in this moment is that the victor's children _always_ get reaped. My worst fears are going to come true now. It's almost unavoidable. I'll have to have children with this dirty, drunk man. I'll have to watch them in the Hunger Games. And this man, this husband of mine, will have to mentor them. I'll raise them and love them and feed them. And watch them die.

This can't be happening.

_I'm very excited about this story! I hope I get a few fans and we can enjoy the ride together. Please review and follow so I know that I'm getting a response. Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much to every reviewer. I really appreciate it. Please note that, in this story, Haymitch is 40 and Katniss is 23. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and sorry to everyone for the long delay. Warning: Mature themes. _

It's been three hours since we boarded the train to the Capitol, and Haymitch and I still have not spoken. He is in the bar car, most likely drinking enough to forget that he is now married to me. I've been watching the districts go by, taking in the images of the foreign places and wondering if every other marriage reaping couple is as miserable as we are.

After the reaping was over, we were all rushed off to our places. I was ushered away by Effie Trinket, required to travel to the Capitol for a meeting at the president's mansion. That is all of the information I've been given. As I was basically shoved away from the square, I managed to wave at mom and Prim, and catch a glimpse of Peeta and his new wife, Delly.

Delly Cartwright is happy, pretty and social. I could have seen the pairing coming from a mile away if I'd given it any thought at all. I was too busy hoping my family wouldn't starve to death to care. Now that it's all over, I'm really glad that Peeta has a good wife. It's one less thing for me to worry about.

Gale was paired with a woman named Danica. She is probably in her early 30's, but very pretty and can obviously hold her own. She has a table in the Hob where she sells knives and weapons. Her trade is a black market in the black market. She fashioned me a few special arrowheads in exchange for a raccoon tail. It's very secretive stuff, but I think that is probably why she and Gale are the perfect match. I hope he learns to be happy with her.

As for me, I don't think there is any way that I will ever be happy with Haymitch. He's a drunk. All of us have been starving for years while Haymitch spends all of his money on alcohol. One bottle of his white liquor could pay for an entire seam family to eat for weeks. It sickens me. I could hardly look at him during the ceremony. When Effie declared us husband and wife, I had to make a conscious effort to keep the scowl off of my face.

If I'm being completely honest, though, he didn't look that bad all cleaned up. In fact, he could almost be considered handsome. Not that I would ever look at him in that light.

And now, as he walks into this room and plops down on the couch across from me, I remember why he is still single at 40 years old. The stench of alcohol radiates from him to me from 5 feet away. His hair, which was cleaned and well-maintained during the ceremony, is messy and borderline greasy, no doubt from all of the sweating during his drunken binge. His shirt is dangling down, no longer tucked neatly into his nice trousers (which could also feed a seam family for a week, I might add) and Haymitch Abernathy looks every bit the 40 years he is.

"I'm sorry," he begins, and I have to admit to myself that the words surprised me, "I'm sure the last thing you wanted in your life was to marry someone like me."

"Or to marry at all…" I finish his sentence, trailing off at the end before I say something rude during our first conversation.

"Yeah, or that." Haymitch gets up from his seat and moves over so that he is sitting right next to me. He leans in close and moves the hair behind my ear. I flinch at the touch and glare at him. Before I can yell, he's leaning his mouth over to my ear. "Don't say anything, just listen." He whispers. "We are being watched very closely. I need to you act a bit less pissy for the remainder of the trip. When we get there, we will do whatever Snow tells us to do. The victors have already been threatened that our spouses are to comply or Snow will convince them. By that, I mean he is going to kill everyone you love if you don't listen to him. Do you understand me, sweetheart?"

With his words, I feel the blood rushing out of my face. I apparently underestimated the situation. I assumed that we would be forced to have children and live in wedded misery, and I assumed that we would be required to act like we are in love for any portion of the year that Haymitch may be in the public eye. What I didn't realize was that we would have direct instructions from the most evil man in the world that, if we fail to follow, will endanger everyone I love. Prim, mom, Peeta, Gale and their families will be compromised if I can't do exactly what I'm told. It is now that I resolve to do whatever it is, as long as they are safe. I can endure any type of torture as long as everybody is safe.

I nod at Haymitch and try to take a few deep breaths. I doubt we are supposed to discuss such things, especially since we are being watched. I look around the car for cameras, but can't seem to distinguish any. They are probably well-hidden, I suppose. This is a train intended for tributes, so I'm sure they want to be informed of anything and everything that their cattle are doing.

Haymitch and I sit next to one another for the rest of the day. We don't speak to one another, but when it is time to eat dinner, he rests a hand gently on my back as we enter the dining car. The little touch throws me off, but I quickly regain my cool and give him a small smile. When it is time to go to bed, I head to an empty train car and Haymitch heads to another one. Effie Trinket scoffs at me and grabs me before I can close the door.

"Katniss, you are required to sleep in the same bed as your husband. Silly girl! Weren't you ever taught about marriage?"

I gape at her before remembering what Haymitch told me earlier. I am to do whatever it takes to protect my loved ones, but I will not have sex with him unless it is one of the topics of the meeting with the president. Sleeping in the same bed is bad enough.

"Oh! Of course!" I retreat, smiling my sweetest smile at Effie and then glancing over at Haymitch, who looks a bit stricken himself. "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to being a wife, I suppose."

I head into Haymitch's car and shut the door behind us before Effie can make any more demands. Once we are alone, I let the act fade away and slumped to the floor. Pretending to be carefree and joyful about my life is more exhausting than I even could have imagined. I would almost prefer Seam life, when being miserable and starving and angry was just the normal attitude. Acting like that today would send off red flags everywhere. A new bride is not supposed to be like me. I wonder if I will ever be allowed to act like that again.

Haymitch takes a bottle of liquor from his pocket and offers it over to me. I never would have thought of indulging in something so disgusting and wasteful, but I don't feel like I have anything left to lose. I unscrew the cap and down a few gulps of the horribly bitter liquid. Haymitch grabs another bottle from under the bed and douses at least half of it in one drink.

"We'll be okay." He offers up quietly before taking another drink.

"Are you sure?" I whisper back, staring at him and hoping to get a bit of positive feedback.

"Either that, or we die trying."

!

We are startled awake in the morning by Effie pounding on the door. We slept in much too late for her liking, missed breakfast and were somehow destroying her entire schedule. Haymitch doesn't seem too heartbroken over it.

We dress in the clothes that were specifically laid out for us. I am forced to wear an expensive-looking green blouse with buttons that are made of a stone I've never even seen before. They are nothing like the buttons we have in District 12. Not even the mayor's family wears buttons so lavish. A sleek brown skirt that reaches the floor is also included. It's all very form-fitting. Breasts that I usually try to hide under my father's hunting jacket are shaped and displayed in this outfit, and my behind is too large to hide in the tight material of the skirt. My waist is small and my hips, which have always been larger than I would like, give me the shape of an hourglass. Back in the district, something like this would be worn (though not as expensive or clean) by a women who was looking for extra money to feed her family by sleeping with the Peacekeepers.

I feel cheap in the clothes but I know it is not anything I can control. There is a reason this outfit was chosen for me, and I have to abide by the rules. When I exit the car, Effie claps her hands excitedly and wobbles over to me in her giant-heeled shoes.

"Look at you! You are beautiful! Who knew that all of that beauty was under all of that… dirt. Haymitch, doesn't she look absolutely perfect?"

Haymitch nods his head and turns back to his meal. That is finally when I notice all of the food laid out on the table. There are at least twenty dishes, swimming in sauces and butters and creams. There are fruits that I've only seen in old textbooks at school and meats that look perfectly cooked and crispy. I can't even bring myself to thing about the Seam and the meager meals that everyone back in District 12 are enduring. All I can think about is how much I hope some of this food is for me.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. You are a victor's wife now." He tells me with a light chuckle. At least he understands my train of thought. I'll ignore the whole 'sweetheart' thing for the time being. Loving newlyweds don't usually admonish each other for nicknames.

Before I can ever think twice, I am sitting in the chair next to Haymitch, grabbing as many different items as I can and piling them onto my plate. He grabs my wrist lightly and stops me from grabbing any more food. I want to scream at him, but I just meet his gaze and let him interrupt what is going to be the best meal of my life.

"This food is too rich to overeat, especially for someone who is used to meager portions. Control yourself or puke. Your choice."

I scowl at the harsh tone of his voice and continue piling on delicious looking foods. I don't actually care if I get sick. I want to try everything on the table and I want to eat to my heart's content. It's not every day that a Seam girl gets to try Capitol delicacies.

I start with a strip of crispy meat. It melts on my tongue and the greasy, salty fat reminds me of nothing I've ever had before. Another piece of meat covered in rich gravy makes me close my eyes with enjoyment. I take several pieces of perfectly cooked toast and Haymitch advises that I dip them in an egg yolk. It is absolutely heavenly. I try a light green fruit with a mild taste covered in some kind of syrup. I eat cream-filled pastries and glasses of thick cow's milk. I practically inhale sausages and light gravy over buttermilk biscuits and jellies and jams and juices made out of fruits that I've never even heard of. By the time I am done eating, I feel too bloated for my outfit and ready for a nap. An achy, full feeling in my stomach makes me feel how I imagine pregnancy will be.

"You feel okay, kid?"

"Don't call me kid, Haymitch. It's not very convincing." I place a hand on my head and swallow back the food that is trying to come back.

"I told Effie that you will probably need to lie down. We've got two hours until we arrive at the Capitol."

"I'm fine, really." I tell him, though I'm sure he can see on my face that I am slowing losing my ability to speak through the nausea.

He rolls his eyes at me and shrugs, "If you really want to vomit in the president's mansion, suit yourself."

I have to admit to myself that he has a good point, so I slowly get up from the table and head to the room. I practically collapse onto the bed and fall asleep before I can even think about being sick.

!

The nausea from before is long gone and replaced with a whole new kind of sickness. Haymitch and I are sitting around a large table with almost 100 other people, all victors and their new spouses. Haymitch is chatting with a dark-skinned man who I found out is from District 11. His spouse is actually another victor. They were paired together during the marriage reaping. I have to wonder why they didn't just get married before all of this happened to avoid the reaping. Looking around the room, I don't see anybody who is much younger than me. Johanna Mason is probably about the same age as myself, but her spouse is easily 20 years her senior. She looks miserable and disgusted with everyone around her. Her facial expressions are revealing everything that I feel as well.

After what seems like hours, President Snow finally enters the room and nearly every voice around me goes quiet. He waves at us all briefly like he is waving to a crowd of adoring fans. Nobody responds to him. He makes his way to a podium and takes his place overlooking everyone in the room.

"Welcome Victors and your new spouses. Congratulations on your nuptials. I am sure that all of you are pleased with the Capitol's choices and will enjoy your lives together." He extends his arms toward us with a fake smile on his face. I hate him so much, though, that a real smile would probably not do anything for me either. "You are probably wondering why I have summoned all of you here today… Well, as you know, there has been some anger in the districts regarding the marriage law. The districts are not open-minded to this innovative idea, and it will be your jobs to convince them otherwise."

I look over to Haymitch but he and another victor seem to be having a silent conversation with one another. I recognize the other victor to be Finnick Odair. Next to him sits Annie Cresta, who is also a District 4 victor. The two had a very controversial wedding earlier in the year. Finnick announced that he and Annie were marrying because he knew their children would be strong and beautiful tributes. The whole thing made me sick.

"Your assignment is simple. All of you have been tested for fertility. You are all candidates to have viable, healthy children. When the districts see your happy families, they will realize that this law is a good thing. Therefore, females must be impregnated as soon as possible. Each couple has a room here in order to accomplish this. You have an hour to consummate your marriages. When the hour is up, the females will be examined. Any couple who does not complete the required consummation will face a severe disciplinary punishment. In two months' time, if pregnancy has not been achieved, victors will be places with another spouse in order to accomplish the task. I trust you understand what will happen to the other spouse. This is not to be taken lightly, victors." He steps back from the podium and looks around the room. My head is swimming and I feel as if I'm going to pass out right at the table. I grab Haymitch's hand under the table. As much as I hate having to touch him, I need a bit of strength right now. I can't handle any of this on my own. He squeezes my hand back and I feel nauseous. Soon enough, we will be in bed together. It won't be my first time having sex with a man, but it was different before. Peeta and I were best friends. Peeta was safe and warm. He spent money on protection to make sure I wouldn't get pregnant. It was wonderful and perfect, and the best way to forget about final reaping. This is forced and ugly and threatening. How are we ever supposed to stand being married to one another when we have this hanging over our heads? It's a bigger nightmare than anything I've dealt with before this.

The President excuses himself from the room and everything goes haywire. Victors launch from their seats and start screaming. Women are crying and two of them get sick all over the table. The men are all outraged, yelling and jeering in the general direction of where Snow left the room. Haymitch pulls a bottle out of his pocket. I expect him to drink some of it, but he hands it over to me instead.

"You are probably going to want to be drunk for this."

I agree. With shaking hands, I nurse the bottle like I did the night before.

Finnick Odair and Haymitch seem to be communicating with one another still. There is something going on here, but I don't have the energy to care about it. I'm too preoccupied with the imminent sex and pregnancy. Snow basically announced that any victors who failed to achieve pregnancy in the next two months would be re-wed and their old spouses murdered. I would die if I didn't have a baby with Haymitch. My family would likely die as well. There was absolutely no way around this. I drink as many nasty gulps of the liquor as I can manage without vomiting. It doesn't take very long to feel like I am floating. Haymitch helps me out of my chair and escorts me down the various corridors of the mansion. I feel like an animal being lead to slaughter.

When we reach the room, the alcohol finally hits me head on. Haymitch has not had anything to drink, and I grateful for that. I want him to know what he is doing. And I know that he suggested I drink so that I wouldn't have to feel all of what is going on. I'm surprised by the way he is trying to make this better, but I don't think it's possible. As nice as he is being, I don't want to have sex with him. I don't want to create a child with him. I can't believe this is happening.

He lays me down on the bed and I close my eyes. The alcohol is making me feel floaty and I watch as Haymitch begins to remove his clothes. I can't help but think back to that one time with Peeta. His pale, strong body, the tufts of blonde hair all over his torso and feeling of being filled up with the most intimate part of him. This is different.

Haymitch is very strong. That is the first thing that I notice about him. Despite the years of alcohol abuse and the subsequent belly, his arms and legs are hugely muscular. His chest is hairy and he isn't looking me in the eye. Judging by the way his undergarments are bending, he is aroused and much larger than Peeta in that department. I'm grateful for the alcohol when I remember how much it hurt the first time. I start to take off my own clothing. It's difficult, but I know that I need to do this. I want a bit of control in the situation, so I strip off every bit of my clothing and lay back in the bed. I spread my legs open and wait for the violation.

Surprisingly, it does not come. Haymitch grabs my hand and places it on his stomach.

"You're in control, sweetheart."

I stare up at him in my drunken stupor and shake my head. "Don't call me sweetheart." I bring my hand down to the swollen part of him and give it a squeeze. I'm not a stranger to the male anatomy, or I probably wouldn't be so crass about it. My prior experience makes me feel less vulnerable and I get the urge to tell Haymitch about this. "I'm not a virgin, ya know."

"I didn't know."

"Now you do." I move my hand a bit and try to forget that this man is a stranger. An old, drunk stranger who I am forced to have sex with. I try to picture that this is something that I want. That Haymitch sets me on fire with lust. I try to focus on his strong arms and legs, his grey eyes that look so much like my own and the tight, set jaw covered in prickly hairs. It isn't difficult to be attracted to him in a sexual way right now. It's probably the fault of the alcohol, but I don't have the sobriety to fully analyze it.

It's not the first time in my life that I've been aroused. For some reason, the longer I stroke him, the more I want to be closer to him. I lean forward and grab his lips in a sloppy kiss. He tastes clean and the prickles on his face tickle my cheeks and chin. We are both completely naked and I know that it's time to do what we have been commanded to do. I grab his neck and pull him to me as I lean back on the soft bed. I'm shaking with nerves but excited at the same time. All I can think about is the masculine scent of him and the carnal pleasure that I've only experienced once before. Now is not the time to think about Peeta though, so I force myself to look at Haymitch and accept that this is now my life.

His hesitance is palpable but I'm determined to make this all happen. For Prim, for everyone I love, for the throbbing in my core and the steading heat of his warm member. This has to happen. I thrust my center up to Haymitch, silently giving him the permission to begin. He reaches a hand down to me and recoils at the feeling of wetness. I meet his gaze with half-lidded eyes and nod. He needs to realize that this is not just a duty for me now. This is something that I want and need. And I know much of my loss of inhibitions is due to the alcohol, but I can't seem to care. Haymitch aligns himself with my wetness and I feel the stretching sensation that I remember from years back.

The initial feeling is of discomfort. It's a stretching and burning but I won't try to stop him now. This has to happen. A few more thrusts push him deeper into me and something happens. He nudges a spot inside of me that makes me want more. I start to thrust my hips up with his movements and suddenly an animalistic passion takes over. Everything is swimming from the alcohol and my head is burning with heat, but the rest of me is burning with it. Haymitch's hair is hugging my shoulder. His face is buried in my shoulder as the thrusts increase in strength. I clutch his hair in my fingers and close my eyes with the impending feelings of overwhelming pleasure.

Suddenly, an uncontrollable tightening feeling takes over my body. I gasp as I lose control of myself and twitch as Haymitch continues his ever-quickening movement. After I come down from the feeling, my vision is completely spinning. The alcohol is kicking in stronger every moment and I ride my high as Haymitch finally finishes. The feeling of his release inside of me is a terrifying thing, and I resist the urge to push him away. This needs to happen.

When all is said and done, my center is throbbing, but not in a bad way. I never expected to enjoy this at all. Though I know that the morning will bring regret and fear and possibly disgust, right now I am fine with the man who will father my children.

Right now, everything is okay.

_Tons of smut, I know. Please review. I will update soon._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to all of my reviewers and readers from the last two chapters. You rock! Sorry for the wait on this one. Things will start moving faster from here on out. I now have a tumblr for all things related to Hayniss fanfiction. It is justanotherhaynissshipper dot tumblr dot com. The story is posted on there as well. Please check it out and follow and send any questions there (or on here)._

After an agonizing exam by a team of Capitol doctors, Haymitch and I were put on a train back to District 12. It's packed with other couples that look about as happy as we feel. Haymitch and his friend from 11, who I've come to know as Chaff, sit together at the bar, drinking away any negative feelings that may be left over from their brief visit. I've been advised not to drink again, as it could cause problems with the pregnancy that I'm being forced to pursue.

I was given a small device that I have to use every morning to prick my finger. As soon as I am pregnant, the device will send a message off to the Capitol. The Capitol will then send a team of doctors to the district. I'm not sure exactly what will happen after that, but I was told that I am not to miss a single finger prick. I don't plan on finding out what will happen if I do.

The device is tucked away in my pocket. The cold metal feels like it's burning through the thin material of my slacks, not letting me forget that it is there and waiting to drop the biggest bomb of my life on me someday, if I'm ever able to actually conceive. Who knows what years of drinking have done to Haymitch? Who knows what years of starving have done to me? We may be destined to fail from the start. And how fitting, a starving seam woman to die because her awful childhood prevented her from reproducing in her twisted arranged marriage. I almost wouldn't mind dying because of this. Better me than an innocent child. Better me than my own innocent child.

Soon all of the couples are heading off into their compartments. Haymitch and I are the only two who remain. We haven't said a word to one another since everything happened last night, and I think I almost prefer it that way. Haymitch is a man of few words and I don't have time for the trivialities of awkward conversation. The current silence is unnerving though. I don't want to sit here and watch him drink so I make my way to our compartment without giving him a second glance. I know we should probably make an attempt at intimacy tonight, but the smell and taste of liquor on him does not appeal to me at all. I change out of my clothes and climb into bed, only to have Haymitch walk through the door seconds later.

His behavior is sloppy and I wonder if he even knows what he's doing. He climbs next to me in the bed, fully clothed and reeking of alcohol. After last night the smell is almost unbearable and I have to hold my breath to keep from gagging.

"The Capitol killed my girlfriend."

I freeze as I wait for the rest of his words. It's a risky topic to bring up here, but I want to know what he means. I need to know what I'm getting myself into.

"After the games, they wanted to sell me to the highest bidder. When I refused, the picked my family off, one by one. I don't want that to happen to you. And I don't want it to happen to my kid."

He takes a deep breath and leans close to my ear. Something wet falls from his face onto mine and I hear a choked sob from the man, despite his obvious effort to hold back.

"I hate the fucking Capitol, ok? I really do. But I won't let them take anything else from me. I just won't."

With that, he turned over and hugged his pillow on the other side of the bed. I held my breath until I heard his breathing slow down and even out. I shook the tension out of my body and tried not to tremble as I fell into one of the worst sleeps of my life.

!

For Katniss, arriving back home was a bigger adjustment than being married. Home for Katniss now consisted of a large, dusty mansion in Victor's Village away from everyone that she loved. She was forced to spend time with Haymitch, who was drunk the majority of the time. Spending time together was mostly her sitting on a couch, Haymitch sitting in a nearby chair, knocking back swigs of bitter liquor and trying to avoid eye contact.

On their fourth day back from the Capitol, Katniss got tired of the silence.

"I'd like to visit my mother and sister today. And maybe my _cousins," _She offered Haymitch a sideways glance, hoping he might understand the insinuation. "I haven't been able to meet their wives yet."

Haymitch shrugged his shoulders and took a messy drink from a glass bottle. Liquid dripped off of his chin and stained his white shirt with a pale brown. "I didn't know you had any cousins, sweetheart."

Katniss swallowed deeply and tried to steady her voice. She knew they were being monitored by the Capitol. Haymitch had received a message the day before that the Capitol knew they had not consummated their relationship since that first time. He received instruction that they were to have sex again in the coming three days. Haymitch didn't tell her what would happen if they didn't. She didn't even want to know.

"Yes, I'm quite close to my cousins… Hazelle Hawthorn is my aunt. I'm close with her son, Gale. And Gerald Mellark is my uncle on my mother's side. Peeta and I are good friends… And cousins."

The words are sticky in her mouth. Lying was never her strong suit, but she hoped that it would throw the Capitol off of her scent. It wasn't as if she was planning some kind of romantic tryst with Peeta and Gale. She just wanted to know that they were okay, and warn them about the danger that her arranged marriage had put them in.

The look on Haymitch's face told her that her explanation tipped him off. Everyone in the district knew that Cappie Everdeen and Gerald Mellark were once an item. Cappie left Mellark for Weston Everdeen, a miner, and was disowned from the Merchant crowd and her parents. It was hardly believable to him that she and Peeta were cousins. If the Capitol sensed that a victor's wife was cheating on him and giving an impression of dissidence to the rest of the district, well, she wouldn't live to tell about that. That much was clear. Haymitch understood her motives and gave her a nod of approval, looking somehow more sober than he'd been seconds before.

"Be careful out there."

She promised she would and excused herself. The walk to the bakery from Victor's Village was shorter than the walk to the Seam, so she would visit Peeta before making her way over to the Seam with the letter and a bag of food. With a determination that she hadn't felt since before the marriage reaping, Katniss set out into town with three letters clenched tightly in her fist.

!

Her meeting with Peeta was tense. His wife was more than sweet and welcoming to Katniss, but something just didn't feel right. After a few minutes of small talk, Delly excused herself to the kitchen, clearly leaving to give Katniss and Peeta a chance to talk in private.

"I'm sorry you were paired with him," Peeta whispered, looking down at the ground with a shamed face.

"There was nothing you could have done. And Haymitch isn't so bad. He could be worse."

Silence hung between them. She knew what Peeta wanted to say to her. He still loved her. He hated seeing her with another man. He wanted everything to go back to normal. To how it was before the marriage reaping. It's how she felt too, but she'd never say it. To drag those words into the open would be to admit how much she really cared for him. There wasn't a time or place for those kinds of feeling anymore. To love another man was to defy the Capitol. It would put them all into unnecessary danger, and she just wasn't willing to do that.

"I took some photos of my new home. I brought them to you. Look at them after I leave," she handed Peeta the envelope and hoped that he would understand where she was coming from. The letter went into full detail about her situation. She instructed in the letter that he burn it after reading. She couldn't risk someone else seeing it.

After a few more minutes of talk, Delly came back into the room with a tray of tea and cookies. Katniss helped herself to several of the cookies and chatted amiably with the other female. She didn't mind Delly too much. The blonde woman was a good fit for Peeta, and that was all Katniss cared about.

Shortly after she finished her cookies and tea, Katniss excused herself from their home. She needed to get away from Peeta and his new life. Dwelling on the past wouldn't fix the present, and she had other deliveries to make.

!

Five days after her visits with Peeta, Gale and her family, Katniss was once again awoken by the incessant beeping of the Capitol pregnancy detector at 6am. It was becoming a force of habit to wake up, prick her finger and fall back into a fitful sleep, usually alone. Haymitch would sometimes come into the bed with her; sometimes they would have sex, most of the time they would just sleep. Their activities never consisted of actually speaking to one another on a casual basis. They weren't friends, they weren't in love, and they weren't acquaintances. They were prisoners together. Lovers and prisoners who shared the same bars and the same bed.

She popped her head up from under the large comforter and felt the weight of her spouse on the other half of the bed. Haymitch hadn't had as much to drink the night before, which resulted in him tossing and turning in the bed, half-drunk with fear and trapped in his nightmares. Katniss awoke him at 2am to remove him from the terrors, but he didn't want her pity and turned away to fall back into sleep. At 3am, they both woke up and found themselves wrapped up in each other's arms.

Sex was becoming an activity that Katniss enjoyed. The initial pain and embarrassment was gone, leaving behind the lust that she'd denied herself for years, ever since her lone tryst with Peeta. Also, it was Capitol-ordered, which just gave Katniss all the more motivation to continue her romantic encounters with Haymitch. It was enjoyable and it would ensure that her family was safe. That was all of the reassurance she needed to let herself be immersed in Haymitch.

And as much as he hated to admit it, Haymitch enjoyed their encounters just as much, if not more, than Katniss. It had been years since he'd properly been with a woman. She was young, beautiful, fit and inexperienced, all traits that would turn any man on. After he got over the initial guilt and nausea from sleeping with a woman who did not truly want to be with him, he was able to ravish her to the true extent of his desire. Once Katniss slept with him sober and still achieved orgasm, he knew this arrangement was something that she was genuinely enjoying.

Despite their hot and heavy sex, there was no intimacy in their relationship. They just weren't intimate people and they didn't have many positive feelings about one another that didn't revolve around carnal pleasure. So when Katniss was awoken on their 9th day home by the beeping of the Capitol machine, Haymitch cursed at the thing and instructed her to "fucking prick your damn finger so I can go back to sleep, dammit."

She rolled her eyes at his harshness, took a moment to rub the sleep from her tired grey orbs and grabbed the Capitol-made chunk of plastic before it woke up the other non-existent residents of the Victor's Village. Clumsily, she smashed the needle-clad end onto the index finger of her left hand before setting it back on the bedside table and laying her head back on her pillow.

Before she could even fall back into her dream state, the Capitol anthem began to play from the machine. Both her and Haymitch shot up from the bed and stared at the contraption. Katniss' heart began to thump loudly and she whispered a silent prayer that the anthem was not an indication of some sort.

Suddenly, a monotone voice boomed from machine and a projection appeared on the wall next to the bedside table, "Your blood test has indicated that fertilization has taken place." On the projection screen appears the words, "You are 10 days pregnant with a single child. Mother is Katniss Everdeen; Father is Haymitch Abernathy. Trained medical staff from the Capitol will arrive in 8 to 10 hours."

She read the words several times before they truly sunk in. They'd done it. She was pregnant, just as Snow demanded. She just didn't think it would happen so fast. She wasn't ready. Her head swam with the panic of impending motherhood and she was sure she would die if she didn't get out of the house at that moment. Katniss shot up from the bed and sprinted down the stairs. Before she could make it, naked, out the front door, she was being grabbed from behind by Haymitch. She struggled against him for a moment before collapsing against him in a fit of sobs.

"I can't-I can't, I just can't," she choked, wanting to disappear, wanting to die, wanting to escape from the cruel life that had been forced upon her the second she was drawn to be Haymitch Abernathy's wife.

"I'm so, so sorry sweetheart. I'm so sorry," he whispered to her, uncharacteristically gentle in his words and his tone.

She didn't know how long they stood there until an overwhelming exhaustion invaded her entire body. The sobbing and tension and horror were a combination that left her feeling mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. Silently, she pulled away from her husband, grabbed his hand and led him up to their bed, where they both fell into a dreamless sleep, hoping to wake up and have the new development be just a horrible nightmare.

_Please review if you can. Thank you!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you to the reviewers of last chapter. I was very glad to see how many people followed and favorited. I hope you will consider reviewing this chapter as well. _

A team of 2 doctors and 3 nurses from the Capitol are wheeling equipment into the living room, setting each machine next to the couch as they call out different orders to one another. One of the nurses, a pretty woman with hair the deep green color of pine needles, gently grabs my arm and instructs me to lie down on the couch. At this point, I'm not feeling completely connected to reality. Thinking about a child growing inside of me makes my breath catch in my throat.

Haymitch stands about 4 feet away, his arms crossed over his chest and a suspicious looks plastered on his face. He is eyeing the every move of each medical professional, waiting for one of them to do something wrong. I'm not sure if this stems from his distrust of the Capitol or his protectiveness of me and the child growing inside of me. Haymitch isn't the most sentimental man in the world, so I'm betting it is the former option.

"Please pull up your shirt, Mrs. Abernathy."

I glare at the male doctor and bite my tongue. I'm not used to being addressed as Mrs. Abernathy, but I suppose a doting mother-to-be shouldn't snap at a doctor for calling her by her husband's name. Still, I'm hesitant to lift up my shirt. What good could that possibly do? I grip the end of my shirt and pull it down further. The doctor, whose coat identifies him as Dr. Lyon, sighs in frustration and motions for one of the nurses to step forward. The woman is short and heavy-set with blue skin. She looks like something I might see in my nightmares, but her face is kind. I already feel better with her near, blue skin and all.

"Sweetie," she begins, sitting down on the edge of the couch and taking my hand in hers. I resist the urge not to yank it back from her. "We need to do several tests on you to make sure your body is capable of carrying the child now that fertilization has taken place. Direct orders from President Snow. You two are the first Victor couple to conceive and this is very important to the president. He won't accept anything less than a full examination."

I know Snow isn't going to let us get away with less than his orders, so I oblige and lift up my shirt. I've heard from Prim of pregnant women having ultrasounds, but she always told me it is something that most women don't get to experience in District 12, due to limited equipment. I guess carrying a victor's child means I will be treated like a Capitol citizen. The thought makes me ill.

"Usually we don't perform ultrasounds so early in pregnancy, but we will use this one to get a look at your uterus and make sure there are not any visible abnormalities that may affect the pregnancy," the other doctor explains, grabbing a strange wand from one of the machines and setting it on his stomach area. A weird picture pops up the screen. It looks like a pile of worm-filled vomit. "This is the inside of my stomach. Obviously, we won't be looking at your _stomach_, but I thought it would reassure you if I used it on myself first."

I nod my head and let him put the wand on me. I stare at the screen, hoping I will see something that might make me feel better, but I can't distinguish anything on the picture. The medical staff inspect the machine as if it is the most interesting thing in Panem. When they seem satisfied, the pretty nurse flips the machine off and shoos the men out of the room. Haymitch comes closer and raises a brow at me. I grab his hand and pull him a bit closer. I don't want to be stuck in this room with three odd women.

"Now we are going to do a vaginal exam. I thought you might be more comfortable if the men were in another room."

"I would, thank you," I pull my pajamas down and follow the instructions that the women give me. It is similar to the horrible exam that I endured before we left the Capitol, so I'm not completely caught off-guard. Haymitch, however, who was not present for the first exam, looks completely shocked and disturbed. I clench my eyes shut and squeeze him as hard as I possibly can to forget what is happening below my waist. I hate to admit it, but his presence is calming. He is my anchor as one of the nurses sticks a cold contraption inside of me. I rub my thumb against his warm hand and try to remember what it's like to be in the woods as a predator and not the prey of an icy Capitol tool.

When it's over, the tool is pulled out and I wince. I feel Haymitch tense up next to me, and I open my eyes to give him a nod of reassurance. It feels like we've become a team, an unspoken language providing each of us with much need support.

The doctors come back into the room and one of them, along with the 3 nurses, begins to pack up. Dr. Lyon grabs a case near the door and opens it up in front of me, revealing several bottles of pills.

"You have to take these twice a day, once when you wake up and once before bed. These are vitamins that will ensure that you and the child are healthy. It's okay if you forget a dose once in a while, but don't make a habit of it. President Snow is counting on your child to be an example of how beneficial the arranged marriages can be for Panem."

I take the case from him and set it next to me on the couch. I'll make sure I don't miss the dosage. I don't want to give Snow a reason to come after me.

He hands me a list of do's and don'ts, a schedule of appointments that I have to take a look at the child, the developments that will take place, week-by-week, and numbers to call in the event that any number of catastrophes should occur. All of the warnings leave me feeling exhausted on top of the depression I already felt after this morning's revelation.

"You are due on July 29th, based on the day of conception. We will come back for each of your scheduled appointments. You have our contact information in case you have any questions or concerns between appointments. If you don't have any immediate questions, we are done here."

When the medical staff finally leaves the house with promises of seeing me soon, I'm completely overwhelmed again with this situation. It's early November now. I'm due next July, 3 weeks after the next reaping, which means Haymitch will most definitely be in the Capitol when I'm set to give birth. I wonder what kind of propaganda schemes the Capitol will have when it comes to the birth of this child. I can imagine that Snow will sell photos of the baby, one of his future tributes, to the highest bidder. My head swims at the thought and I wonder how much more anxiety I can take before I lose my mind.

"I need a drink," says Haymitch, grabbing a bottle from the end table and unscrewing the cap. It's irritating that his first instinct is to get drunk when he knows that I can't, but it's unrealistic for me to expect that Haymitch will transform into some thoughtful person. As far as I can tell, he's never been self-sacrificing, and he probably never will be.

"Enjoy your drink," I mumble before snatching a jacket and heading out into the crisp, late autumn air.

!

The best thing about my newly acquired status as a Victor's wife is the money that I can now use at my discretion. My first stop is the Hob, where I buy Prim an orange scarf decorated with brown and red leaves. It's the kind of garment that only the wealthiest merchants get to wear, and I want my sister to have it, to flaunt it and to feel like the best of the best. Next, I buy a bag of flour, the expensive white kind that is used in bakery treats, and a bag of white sugar, another huge delicacy in the Seam. According to the lecture I received from the doctor, heavy lifting is not a good idea for a pregnant woman, so I pay one of Greasy Sae's nephews to follow me back to the Seam with the products. He gladly obliges and accompanies me dutifully to Rooba's, where I purchase a slab of unidentified meat to bring back to my family as well.

I make it a point to avoid the bakery as we head over to my mother and Prim's home in the Seam. It's only been a few days since I stepped through the threshold of the rickety building, but it feels like years. Mother is sitting in the living room, staring at the wall and Prim is in the kitchen, making a racket with the dishes in there. I can imagine she is trying to cook something for dinner. Hopefully my packages will make that a bit easier.

"Katniss!" she yells before dropping everything in her arms and running over to me. I wrap my arms around her tightly and rest my chin on her head, closing my eyes and relishing in the feel of my sister. I'm so glad that she can act so nonchalant toward me after reading the letter that I brought over earlier in the week. I was afraid that she would shy away from me, that her and mother would lock me out of their lives to avoid the danger that my new life brings. I'm so happy that's not the case, given the way things have changed in the last 24 hours.

"Hey, little duck. I brought over some stuff for you and mom," I look toward my mother, who has not moved in the time that I've been here. "Bad day?"

She nods and we move out onto the porch where the supplies I purchased are waiting.

"Is that a big bag of sugar?" Prim exclaims, rushing over to the bag and tugging it up from the ground. She lets out a little grunt and I laugh before grabbing the other end. Together we carry it into the house and do the same with the bag of flour. I grab the parcel of meat and the bag with Prim's scarf in it before we take a seat at the kitchen table. I hand her the bag and smile at her. I love Prim more than anything and I can't wait to see her reaction to the scarf. If she is excited for a bag of sugar, I can't imagine her reaction to a soft, warm merchant scarf.

The way her eyes light up when she opens the bag tells me that I made the right choice. She yanks the scarf out and wastes no time wrapping it around her neck. Moments like this make me feel like marrying Haymitch was not all bad. If I hadn't been paired with him, I wouldn't be able to buy things like this for my family. And in a few weeks, when winter falls upon District 12 and much of the game is gone from the woods, I won't have to worry about starving. I won't have to watch Prim's ribs poke out from beneath her skin. My 17-year-old sister may be able to grow normally and look like a beautiful young woman. We'll be fed and I'll be able to sneak some over to Gale's family as well. Two Seam families who won't have to fear death during winter…What a strange, wonderful new reality.

It's not all perfect, I have to remind myself, as I recall the reason I came over here in the first place. I need to tell my sister what is going on. I need to talk to someone who isn't going to reach for a bottle of liquor as soon as they hear something potentially upsetting.

After Prim finishes gushing over her scarf, we prepare a supper of stew and biscuits. The stew is hearty, filled with meat, vegetables that I brought over during my last visit and starchy potatoes. As it warms in a pot and the biscuits rise in the oven, Prim and I take a seat by the fire, which is filled up with coal that Prim was able to purchase with the money that I included in the letter. I wonder if Haymitch realizes that I'm using his riches to provide for people that are not his family. I can't imagine that he would care, so long as he still has enough money to buy the liquor that is so necessary to his state-of-mind.

"I miss having you here," Prim whispers, staring at the fire and absent-mindedly playing with her new scarf. "When mom has bad days, I'm all alone."

Her words make horrible emotions well up inside of me, but I fight them off for the time being. I still need to be strong for my little sister. I'm all she has.

"I'm still here, Prim. I'm just in a different house. You can walk over to Victor's Village anytime that you feel lonely."

"Won't Haymitch get mad?" she asks in a small voice, and I realize that I hadn't done a very good job reassuring my sister about him. She probably views him like the rest of the town does; as a horrible, rude drunk. He_ is_ all of those things, of course, but he doesn't mistreat me and she needs to know that.

I chuckle and lean back on my palms, enjoying the feel of the warm rays on my chilled skin, "Haymitch isn't so bad, Prim. He doesn't mistreat me, and he certainly won't say a word against you coming over to visit me. It's my home now. You are always welcome."

She looks noticeably happier with that statement, so I decide it's time to drop the bomb. I'm terrified for her reaction, but I need to get it off of my chest before I explode. I want to tell her in a way that makes it seem like a positive thing. The doctor told me that Haymitch and I need to act like we planned this pregnancy, so I should practice on Prim. She knows from the letter that this isn't what I want, that this was a Capitol-forced action that carries huge consequences, but what if I can make her forget that for a moment? If I can convince my sister that I'm happy, maybe I'll be able to convince the entire district.

I muster up the biggest smile I can and look over at her. "I'll need you to come over a lot in a few months. To babysit."

Her jaw drops and her eyes grow wide. She just gapes at me before it seems to really sink in.

"You're pregnant? Already?"

"Yeah, the Capitol has technology that detects it almost immediately. I just had tests done and everything," I tell her while trying to read her reaction. I know we aren't being monitored here, but I'm still anxious about her reacting poorly.

To my shock, Prim starts to cry. She puts her hands over her eyes and shakes her head as tears spill down her face. I just stare at her, too in shock to comfort her in her sadness. The reaction makes no sense to me. Prim loves babies and she's always wanted to be an aunt. When we were kids and I would mention that I never wanted to get married or have kids, Prim would always get a sad look on her face, like my refusal to reproduce was somehow stealing something important from her. But now, she is obviously miserable about the child that I am carrying and it makes me feel even worse about the awful situation that I'm in. Not even my sweet little sister is happy about this stupid baby.

"It's not fair that you have to do this," she sobs, trying to speak through the hysterics, "you'll have to raise the baby and we'll all love it and then it'll get reaped."

I gasp at her blunt statement, knowing that her words are most likely true but not wanting to think of that just yet. Prim needs to realize that I'm doing this for her. I'm doing this to save her from whatever acts of revenge Snow has for those who don't abide by his commands. I grab her and pull her to me, trying to call my panicked breathing while trying to stop her tears.

"Shhh, Prim, it's okay. Let's not worry about that right now, okay? Just focus on being an aunt, okay? Prim, listen, look at me… I need you to be strong right now because I can't," my voice breaks and I take a few shaky breaths, "_you_ are the loving one. I need you to love the baby in case I can't love it. I don't know if I can love it."

"I'll love the baby, Katniss," she assures me. She wipes the tears off of her face and looks at me fearfully, "And so will you. You will."

!

A few weeks pass by and President Snow sends a reporter to District 12 to interview Haymitch and I. we are still the only Victor couple who has conceived, and he is using us a poster children for the success of the marriage reaping. By now, all of Panem knows that Haymitch Abernathy and his young wife are expecting. They know the due date. There are bets on the gender, the day the baby will arrive, whether or not the child will wait until Haymitch returns from the impending Quarter Quell.

The weather is getting colder, but it's not quite a cold as my relationship with Haymitch. We haven't actually spoken since the day we found out I was pregnant. He's been drunk almost the entire time, save for the occasions that we are on camera for all of the country to see. Haymitch is a good actor. I'm sure it's from the years of being a mentor. He knows how to appear as a happy, doting husband while we are being monitored.

We go through the interview, joking and laughing with the interviewer as he makes comments about our child like they are old friends. It's annoying, but I plaster on a smile and count the moments until I can take off my tight pants and take a nap. When he leaves, Haymitch collapses on the sofa and I lean back in my chair, finally feeling some of the negative side effects of pregnancy. I wait for the sound of the bottle opening, but it doesn't come.

"You alright, sweetheart?"

I startle at the sound of his voice directed at me. I guess this is the end of the silence between us.

"Yeah, just a few symptoms. It's to be expected."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but walks behind me and sets his hands on my shoulders. He massages my tense muscles and I let a small moan escape my mouth at the sensual feeling. My head rolls a bit on my shoulders and I hear a deep, throaty chuckle from the man behind me. I haven't seen any legitimate emotions from him in weeks and it's nice to hear a joyful sound.

"That feels really good Haymitch. Thank you."

He takes a seat across from me and looks down, examining my stomach.

"I don't see anything yet," he swallows hard, like talking about the baby in real life is not an easy task for him, "when are you going to get bigger?"

I roll my eyes at him and chew on one of my fingernails, a nervous habit that I've developed in the last few days, "According to the papers, I won't look any bigger until around 12 weeks."

"How many more weeks is that?"

I roll my eyes again and grit my teeth, "Six more weeks."

"Gotcha…" He moves closer again and takes my hand in his own. The action is so unlike Haymitch that I feel a sickness bubble up in my stomach. Why is he being nice?

"Katniss, I-"

Whatever thought he has is interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of us tense up as the pounding reverberates through the house. I jump up from my chair and make my way to the door. Peering through the peephole, my heart drops. Peeta stands at the door with a bag in hand. I look behind me at Haymitch, who has spotted our visitor through the window and has an almost amused expression on his face.

"Open up the door, sweetheart. You wouldn't want our visitor to get cold," he remarks sarcastically before grabbing the knob and pulling it open.

"H-Hello Mr. Abernathy. Do you mind if I talk to your wife for a moment?"

_Man, this chapter tired me out. Expect the next one shortly. It will have more detail and excitement in it. Please review. Thanks!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Warning: graphic smut and swearing. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and subscribed/favorited! I really appreciate it! Please read and review this chapter. I put a lot of work into it, and I normally won't get all desperate for reviews, but it would mean a lot to me on this chapter. Thank you!_

!

Haymitch and Peeta spend a moment sizing each other up. Haymitch easily has 6 inches of height on him and a lifetime full of anger. Peeta is a gentle person, and I know that he wouldn't hurt Haymitch even if he was put into a situation where he should. Peeta takes a step back and I can't help but roll my eyes at the motion. I don't want Peeta to back down to Haymitch. I want him to stand tall and proud and be the man that I know he is. My husband doesn't need anybody inflating his ego; it's big enough already.

"We can all go for a walk, kid. Katniss, grab your stuff while I talk to your cousin for a moment," with that, he steps outside and shuts the door before I can object. I grunt at his irritating behavior and begin lacing up my boots. I grab all of my outdoor wear and throw it on, completely distracted by the fact that the only two lovers I've ever had are surely conversing about me on the other side of the door.

As quickly as possible, I head out to join them on the porch. Unfortunately for me, they are at the edge of the village and appear to be having a heated conversation near the entrance. I walk over there quickly and feel a tight cramp in my stomach. The pain knocks the breath out of me and I grip my side with a gloved hand. I don't think this is a normal pain. Suddenly, Haymitch and Peeta sprint over to me. My husband grabs my arm and lowers me to the grass where I sit and try to breathe slowly.

"Peeta, go inside and grab the portable phone from the living room. There is a binder next to it. Grab that too," Haymitch barks out at him, "go! Get it now!"

Peeta runs into the house and Haymitch puts a hand on my stomach with great caution. If I wasn't in a state of panic about the future of this child, myself and my family, I would almost be touched by the gesture.

The pain passes but it was severe enough to make me question whether or not the child is still alive. As much as I don't want to be a mother, I even more do not want to lose this pregnancy. I cannot imagine what will happen if this child doesn't live. I'm sure Snow will assure that I die along with the baby, so as to not break the illusion that the arranged marriages are good. I can almost picture some of the headlines now: Katniss Abernathy and unborn child die in a tragic accident. Doting husband Haymitch Abernathy beside himself with grief.

When Peeta comes back out, Haymitch rips the phone out of his hands and dials a number from the binder. I can only assume he is calling one of my Capitol doctors. He explains the situation to the person on the other line and seems to calm down noticeably with the other person's words. When he hangs up, he looks at me up and down. I squirm at his scrutiny but I'm too worried about our situation to tell him.

"Are you bleeding?" he asks me.

I look at him dumbly, "Do I _look_ like I'm bleeding?"

"Drop the attitude, _sweetheart,"_ he seethes at me before lowering his voice, "Are you bleeding from your… female areas?"

I feel my face growing hotter and shrug, "I'm not sure."

The question is humiliating enough to knock my bad attitude right on its ass. Haymitch tells me that I need to go into the restroom and check if I am bleeding. The two of them practically carry me into the house and deposit me in front of the bathroom, where I go in to check that I am not losing the pregnancy. I feel the tension in my body drain out when I realize that I'm not bleeding. I take that as a good sign.

The second I open the door, Haymitch is there, lifting my up and carrying me over to the couch. He and Peeta stare at me like I hold all of the secrets to the universe. I'd like to reprimand both of them for scrutinizing me again, but I'm just so relieved that I let myself fall back onto the couch and close my eyes.

"I'm not bleeding. What did the doctor say?" I question him with my arm draped over my eyes. I don't particularly want to look at either of them.

"They said if you aren't bleeding, that you're probably having cramps as a reaction to stress. I'll assume that your buddy and I are probably responsible for that. One of the doctors is on the next train to 12. They want you resting until they arrive… And they said to take this pill," he holds it out for me to see, "and it will stop any kind of problems you might be having," Haymitch looks at me with a twinge of defeat in his face, "It could be bad, but this should fix it."

I take the pill from his hand and gulp it down in one motion. None of this has been easy for me, which probably contributes to the fact that my body could be rejecting the child that my future so heavily relies upon.

"I figured that," I finally look over at Peeta, whose skin is even more pallid than usual. He looks positively panicked. I can't imagine he expected a simple visit to me to lead to such drama. Knowing Peeta, he probably blames himself in some way.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," he finally speaks, and I can see his guilt in his eyes so deeply that it seems to cut me from my inside. It's hard to see someone as kind and innocent as Peeta Mellark blame himself for something that is so clearly not his fault.

"Don't be," I smile at him, "I'm sure you didn't come over here to stir up trouble. It's not in your nature."

He grins a bit and I laugh. Peeta isn't the trouble-making kind. Not like the man sitting next to him who is carefully looking back and forth between us. Haymitch seems more stressed than usual; his laid-back demeanor traded for an anxious, jittery, tired state of being. I want to grab his hand, but I know this isn't a good time or place for that. I don't want to make things uncomfortable for Peeta, who is clearly already uncomfortable as it is.

We sit in silence for a while, when Haymitch finally breaks the silence, "Peeta here came over to talk to you. I'll give you two a few moments alone," he looks sternly at Peeta before jogging up the stairs and out of sight.

Peeta and I stare at each other for a few tense moments. I won't speak up first. I don't want to explain this to him. This child, this marriage, this new life I have doesn't have room for Peeta in it. He knows that. I know that. But it's so much harder to put these thoughts into words. It's hard to tell your best friend that he doesn't fit in with your new idea of normal. It's easier to let him do all of the talking. He's always been the good talker.

"I brought you some cheese buns," he hands the bag over to me and I peer inside at the delicacies. Cheese buns have always been a favorite of mine. "I heard about your pregnancy on television, like the rest of Panem," a hint of bitterness coats his words and I cringe. I'm sure that wasn't easy for him; to hear that the woman he loves is expecting a child with another man.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you in person," I tell him, and I mean that.

"I was only a little bit angry," he says, and gives me a hint of a smile, "I just thought your cousin would be one of the first to know about the little bugger."

I feel sick at the implication of me and Peeta as relatives, though I know this is how things have to be. We already know that the Capitol has cameras in the house constantly monitoring what we are saying and doing. I'm sure that's what Haymitch was telling Peeta outside before my little episode. He always seems to be one step ahead of me when it comes to the Capitol. I imagine that's what 25 years as a victor will do to a person.

I don't really want to discuss any of this with Peeta, so I try to change the direction of the conversation to his new life.

"How are things between you and Delly?" I ask him.

He shakes his head in response and I drop the subject. I thought things would be wonderful between Peeta and Delly. They are so alike in so many ways. Peeta doesn't elaborate on it.

We sit in tense silence for a few more minutes before he stands up from the couch. I obviously hit a sore spot when I mentioned his wife. For that I'm sorry, but I don't want the Capitol to realize that Peeta is in an unhappy marriage. It seems like something they could use against him, and my need to protect Peeta is still so strong that I just reach my arms out to him for a hug. He gladly reciprocates and I feel him slip something into my jacket pocket. I knew there had to be another reason for him coming over, and I'm sure I'll know once I see whatever it is he slipped into my pocket.

"I just wanted to make sure you are okay, Katniss. You scared me today, but you seem to be doing fine, other than that…right?" He asks me. I waste no time nodding in agreement that I am okay.

"Haymitch is good to me. He will be a good father," I tell Peeta. It seems to reassure him, but as he walks out the front door, I wonder if my words to him will be reality. I haven't really considered what kind of father Haymitch will be. He's 40-year-old with no other children to account for. If Haymitch had a child at 17, they would be my age. The age difference between us could lead to some disagreements on how to raise the child. I'm sure Haymitch will expect me to do all of the work while he gets drunk in his dirty chair.

I know that, no matter what, I will find out in a few months. I sometimes forget that this pregnancy is going to lead to an actual child and not just end in all of my loved ones being protected. Several times since I found out I was pregnant, I've tried to picture the actual child that will come out of this. Will it be dark-haired and dark-skinned with grey eyes? Will it have the blonde mane of Haymitch? I have no doubt that the child will have grey eyes, like both of its parents.

When I think of the human being who is gestating inside of me, above all, I always think of haunted Seam eyes, begging me to protect them, crying and asking me why they were reaped, why I could not protect them. _That_ is the worst part about all of this. This child will eventually be forced to participate in the Hunger Games. Snow all but promised it.

The thought brings tears to my eyes. I don't want to love another person who I can't fully protect. I could chop off my limbs, give up every bit of happiness I've ever had and sacrifice myself to the Hunger Games, but it still wouldn't fully protect this baby; this stupid, beautiful little parasite that is growing inside of me is in an infinite amount of danger, even in the womb. Before I can control myself, the influx of hormones that I've experienced in the past few weeks finally takes over. I begin sobbing for every injustice that I've faced, for every danger that my little sister has come to know as normal, for every moment of insecurity that my child will feel, knowing their father is a mentor of the Hunger Games, knowing that he has killed before.

I sit on the couch and continue to cry into a throw pillow, wishing that the anguish would leave me, but knowing that it never fully will. My life will never be secure again.

Haymitch walks into the room, obviously startled from the other room by my hysterical cries. I lift my hands up from my face to take a good look at his reaction. He looks noticeably concerned, but unsure exactly what he should do about it. This man is not a romantic. There is no softness in him for a crying, pregnant 23 year old girl. Unsurely, he sets a shaky hand on my shoulder. The contact of his warm hand to my clammy skin is welcome and I move a bit closer to him.

"Let's go for a walk, sweetheart. It'll be good for you to get out of the house. In fact, let's head over to the Seam. We'll pay your family a visit," he suggests, and I'm entirely taken aback by the idea. I can imagine it will be completely uncomfortable for Haymitch to be around my mother- his former classmate- and my young sister. I won't pass up an opportunity to spend time with them though, and Haymitch and I obviously have a lot to talk about that wouldn't be appropriate for our camera-filled home. Even though I was told to rest by the Capitol doctors, I feel like getting out of the house would be the best thing for me. I agree to the proposition and wipe my tears before getting ready to depart.

!

Halfway through our walk to the Seam, I have to take a break. At first I didn't think the pregnancy was affecting my body, but I'm starting to feel it. I feel winded and tired and desperate to sit, but the cold weather pushes me to keep walking. I think Haymitch regrets suggesting this little adventure. Every time I falter in my pace, he looks at me with worry. It was kind of a stupid idea after the weird pain I had earlier, but I won't tell him that.

"I'm completely fine. Just tired. No cramps," I snap, wanting him to quit scrutinizing me. The walk makes my body feel more alive and I don't want Haymitch to be dissuaded from taking a walk with me again. After what happened earlier, I'm sure he's not going to want me venturing out alone anymore and I can't imagine being stuck in the house for 8 more months.

"I didn't say anything. No need to be a bitch," he grunts. His words absolutely infuriate me and I stop in my tracks. He stops as well, arms crossed over his chest and a challenging look on his face. My blood is boiling and I want to smack the look right off.

"Don't call me a bitch," I spit back at him, clenching my fists at my sides to prevent myself from losing it.

Haymitch steps closer to me, his lips almost touching my own when he snarls back, "Stop acting like one."

"What a nice guy, talking to the mother of your child like that," I retort, pushing him back a bit and putting a hand dramatically over my belly, "I hope my kid doesn't learn from you how to treat other people."

"Your kid?" he yells, looking at me with malice in his eyes, "I didn't realize you made the thing by yourself, _sweetheart._"

"I wish I had," I scream back, getting angrier by the second, "then I wouldn't have to deal with the asshole who fathered it."

"You didn't seem to mind too much when I was fucking you! Did you forget how you were _screaming _my name? I'm sure the baker boy would love to hear about that," Haymitch hisses in my ear. The action sends shivers straight up my spine and I back away from him a little more before bringing a hand up to smack him clear across the face.

The slap makes Haymitch reel back. He grabs his cheek with both hands and looks at me, wide-eyed. I can't _believe_ I just smacked my husband in the face. My surging, raging hormones are taking the blame for this action, because I refuse to acknowledge that I would do something so ridiculous on a normal day, though he definitely deserved it and was completely out of line by saying something so vulgar to me. I'm not sorry. I won't apologize.

I look around and feel slightly better when I realize that nobody is around to hear his words. In fact, we are in a completely empty section of the district. It's about a half-mile stretch between the Merchant and Seam quarters where there are no homes, business or any resources that would be useful to the residents of either quarter. It dawns on me after a moment of fuming that Haymitch and I are truly alone for the first time in our entire marriage.

The anger still flows thickly through my every vein, causing my heart to race and pump faster than normal. The chilly air feels good on my flushed skin and quickly turns it to gooseflesh. My nipples peak up and I can feel them rubbing against the material of my bra when I move my arms. Thanks again to my lovely hormones, as quickly as my anger toward him arrived, it dissipates into arousal.

I step toward him quickly, pulling down the zipper of my jacket and letting it fall to the ground. Haymitch furrows his brow in confusion, but I don't leave him even a moment to ask me any questions. I just smash my lips into his and wait for him to respond. To the infinite credit of this man, he doesn't take long to kiss me back. Angry or not, frustrated or not, Haymitch and I want only one thing from each other right now, and that thing is pleasure. Not love or affection or kindness, but pleasure.

"Does smacking me turn you on, Katniss?" Haymitch questions between passionate kisses.

I laugh into his lips and start to unbuckle his pants, "Not as much as this does," I reach down and grope him through his pants. His arousal grows and he groans into my mouth.

Once Haymitch's pants are off, he takes control and pushes me onto the trunk on a nearby tree. Swiftly, he pulls off the stretchy pants I'm wearing and lifts my sweater over my head. I'm left in a pair of underwear and my bra. Both garments are a plain, modest material, but they seem to spur his actions. He grips my hips and loops his thumbs under the material before bringing it down, over my thighs, shins, to my ankles where I finally kick them off.

He reaches behind me and expertly unclips my bra. He shimmies it down my arms and, before I can even react, latches his mouth onto one of my nipples. They've been so sensitive lately that I jerk backward against the tree. My hand flies up behind Haymitch's head and I pull it closer, begging him without words to continue the movements of his tongue on my budding flesh. As he sucks at me, he removes the rest of his clothing without as much as a second thought to the chilly weather. The sight of his firm red member increases my arousal and I close my eyes to take it all in. We haven't had sex since the day we learned I was pregnant and my need for release has been creeping up on me since that day.

He reaches down between my legs and rubs the spot that he knows I like. I know I'm soaking wet and I can tell it stimulates his more when he moans into my breast. The vibrations increase the sensation I'm feeling and I almost double over. Haymitch holds me up gently with his other arm against my ribcage as he works my center with one hand and my breast with his tongue. Everything on me is tingling more than I've ever felt before. The Capitol doctor told us that it was okay to have sex, just to be aware because my feminine areas would be at a heightened sensitivity. I was embarrassed at first, but now I can see that he wasn't joking. I feel like a girl on fire with Haymitch's mouth and hands on me.

It doesn't take very long for me to lose control of myself. My eyes clench shut tightly and my face feels like it is burning. I grip my other breast with my free hand. With one hand clutched in Haymitch's hair, one pinching my neglected nipple, a soft, warm mouth engulfing the other breast and a calloused finger stroking my wet folds, I cum with a cry of complete ecstasy. I've never experienced this while standing up, and it's a feeling that I can't compare to anything else in the world. As I cum, I completely lose control of my legs and collapse to the ground. Haymitch is obviously prepared for this, and catches me on the way down. I pant and twitch as the feelings of pleasure continue to roll over me again and again.

Wasting no time, Haymitch props me up against the tree and enters me. I was expecting it, but it doesn't prepare me for the intense fullness I feel at this angle. Today is a day of beautiful firsts between us, and I relish in every thrust. The rough bark scratches my back, but I'm so on fire with Haymitch that it doesn't hurt. The sensitivity of my body is even more heightened after my orgasm, and I'm sure that I'm dying. It can't be possible to feel this intensely. He thrusts into me wildly, and I make it a point to stare into his eyes. He stares back and catches my bottom lip between his teeth. He nibbles as he fucks me as hard as he possibly can. I can't imagine anything in the world being more perfect than this.

Haymitch seems to be nearing his end and is determined to take me with him. He latches his lips onto my neck and sucks on a spot that he knows makes me crazy. A few more deep thrusts and I clench around him and let my body lose control once again, just in time to feel Haymitch release inside of me. I collapse against the tree and Haymitch collapses against me, holding me up with shaky arms as we both try to catch our breath.

"Damn," he breathes out, his eyes not leaving mine as he sets me back down and begins to dress himself. My legs hardly hold me up as I lean down to grab my clothes off of the ground. A wave of dizziness completely overtakes me and I grab onto the tree to steady myself. This is another symptom of pregnancy that the doctor told me about, but I didn't realize how severe it would be. It feels like I spun around in a circle, over and over, like Prim and I used to do for fun when we were little. Instead it's not fun right now. It's completely incapacitating.

I close my eyes and take a moment to let the dizziness pass. I feel hands on me and I know it's Haymitch. I take one of my hands off of the tree and pat him on the arm, "I'm fine. I'm just dizzy."

When the dizziness passes, I chuckle a bit to put him at ease and start to dress myself. He doesn't push me about the episode and I'm thankful for that. It's easier to deal with the stupid symptoms when I'm not being constantly questioned. If everyone around me could just act like I'm not pregnant, I would probably feel a lot better about the whole situation. I've never been the kind of person who wants to be perceived as weak or fragile.

We continue to the Seam in a comfortable silence, and in a moment of tenderness, he pulls me into him and plants a gentle kiss on my temple.

!

It's quiet as we sit in my mother's home, trying to get warm by the fire. She hasn't said a word to either one of us, but Prim is talking enough for everyone. When we first arrived, I hugged my mother and she stiffened up, almost as if she could smell Haymitch on my skin. I try not to let it bother me. He is my husband, after all, and I can do whatever I want and not feel guilty about it. The child inside of me is proof for the world that I've been in Haymitch's bed. I refuse to feel skittish now, especially to my own mother.

Prim goes on and on about some fight that took place in school. When she mentions that the kids were fighting about a couple who was reaped together, Haymitch seems to pay more attention to the conversation. Apparently, one of the reaped marriages resulted in a violent living situation. The male abuses his new wife. The woman's family, a Seam family, wants justice for the woman. The male's family, a Merchant family, is trying to avoid confrontation. Tensions are apparently rising between the two families at school, and everything came to fruition when one of the Seam brothers jumped a Merchant brother.

"Stay out of stuff like that, Prim. I don't want you to get hurt," I tell her.

She laughs and takes a sip of her tea, "Do you really think Rory would let me get close to that? He's really protective."

I can't begin to tell her how relieved I am to hear that. Now that I'm not around, I worry that there is nobody around to watch Prim. With Rory Hawthorn at her side, she is obviously being taken care of. If Rory is anything like Gale, he would die before he let anybody hurt Prim.

"Actually, now that we are talking about Rory, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Prim says, staring down at her hands, and a feeling of dread washes over me. I know what she's going to say before she says it, "We are going to the courthouse on my birthday to sign the papers. He's going to live here because I can't leave mom."

It takes me a moment, but I finally remember that Prim's birthday is in a week. One week until she gets married. I shake my head at her and leap up from my seat, "No, Prim. You don't have to do this so soon. You have until the next marriage reaping, almost a year away! You don't have to do this!" I'm feeling absolutely desperate about my baby sister getting married. I need her to see that she has more time.

My sister smiles sadly and finally looks up at me, tears welling up in her big, blue eyes, "It was always going to be Rory. It's just going to be a little bit sooner than we expected."

"Prim, you have time. Take your time. Don't do this yet. Rory will wait for you," I beg, not wanting to see my sister forced to grow up because the stupid Capitol doesn't think there are enough children being born into the districts.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. Please don't be mad at me," Prim starts to cry and I feel a twinge of guilt. I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I just can't stand the thought of her being forced into a marriage and motherhood before she even gets to finish school. The thought paralyzes me with absolute fear, but Prim could still be reaped next year. If she is married and pregnant, she won't be able to defend herself. Being married would just be a burden for Prim.

She needs to focus on the things that matter to her. She was going to open an apothecary when she finished school so she could help people around the district, Seam and Merchant alike. Would Rory support that? Would he become a miner like his brother and work horribly long days to keep them afloat? Would he die in a mining accident like his father and our father, leaving Prim alone to raise children, to suffer like our mother and wallow in self-pity? The thoughts make me cringe. I can't believe this is even happening.

I always knew Prim and Rory would marry. Everyone around them knew they were meant to be. I just didn't want it to happen this way. I wrap my arms around her and pull her as tightly to me as I can, "I'm not mad at you at all, Prim. I know this is how things have to be now. Just promise me. Promise me that you'll be careful and you'll make good decisions," I lean close to her ear and whisper, "There are herbs that will keep you from getting pregnant. You need to take them. Look in mom's book. You'll find them in there," I pull back and Prim looks absolutely red. I know I've embarrassed her, but it needed to be said.

She nods back at me and mouths, "I will."

We sit in a tense silence until I hear Haymitch clear his throat. He looks incredibly uncomfortable and I feel bad that I forgot he was here. Mother is staring off into space, probably obviously to the fact that her youngest daughter is getting married in a week. I wonder where her mind is right now. Is she back in some time where dad was alive, where they were happy, when Prim and I were just little girls who were happy and innocent and free? Is she stuck in some state of in-between where she is still a child herself, living in the Merchant quarter at the apothecary with the grandparents I never met, who hated my father? I suppose I'll never know where she is or how she constantly separates herself from reality and from her responsibilities as a mother. I make a silent promise to myself that, even if I am a horrible mother, and even if I never wanted a child, I will not do what my mother does. I won't let myself fall apart like that.

Finally, Prim breaks the horrible silence, "Are you excited to be a dad, Haymitch?"

The question startles me and I can't help but look expectantly at Haymitch. I haven't asked him that question yet because I assumed he wasn't excited, but I'm curious to see what he will say when put on the spot by someone else.

Haymitch clears his throat again and looks a bit uncomfortable. The silence in the room seems to grow and it feels like an hour has passed before he finally answers, "Yeah, I'm excited," he looks over at me as he says, "It's not like there is any other choice."

!

December comes and goes in a blur. I sleep now more than I ever have before. Haymitch drinks a bit less than he did before we got married, but still more than any normal person would. We talk sometimes, about things we like and things we dislike, about the symptoms that seem to be changing and getting worse by the minute, and about what we will do once the child is born.

The Capitol doctors visit every 3 weeks, doing their ultrasounds and exams, warning of new symptoms and changes to come, letting me know that the president is very pleased with the child's progress and is looking forward to meeting him or her. That part makes me sicker than usual, and my nightmares usually consist of President Snow's wrinkly hands grabbing for my child as soon as it is born, ripping it away from me and never letting me see it again. I wake up screaming and crying, begging for the child to come back to me, begging for a way to protect it. They reassure me that the cramps I felt before were not a big deal, and to keep myself out of stressful situations. I don't know if that is even possible.

At 11 weeks pregnant, my stomach is slightly protruding. Nothing severe or very noticeable, but a tiny curve, like I ate a large meal or drank a lot of water. The first time I noticed the change, I cried. Then I vomited. And cried some more. I can't stand the way that being pregnant turns me into a wreck. I'm always weepy and exhausted. I can't quite get used to the way that everything seems to be different.

On top of it all, I constantly want to eat strange foods. Haymitch and I take trips into town every week to look at the varieties of food that are available, and I always buy whatever smells the best. Candies, fruits, meats, jerkies, pastries and cheeses usually fill the bags that we bring home. I spend most of my day spreading soft, rich cheese on crackers or toast, topping them with different kinds of salty meats and sauces, or getting my fingers sticky with strange, sugary treats that leave me feeling both satisfied and nauseous.

I constantly have to use the bathroom, which unfortunately requires me to get up from where I'm sitting, and seems to get more and more difficult as the days pass. Haymitch usually just laughs at my grunting, angry disposition from his spot in the dirty reclining chair and mocks me about how I'll function when I'm actually huge and not just lazy.

I get tired of the same old routine, so I resolve myself to going into town, with Haymitch, to do a bit of shopping. I want to buy a few things for Prim and Rory, who are trying to get used to married life. More than once in the last few weeks, Prim showed up at our house in Victor's Village, with tears running down her face, asking me if she made the right choice, asking me if she should be feeling so many strong feelings, asking me if some of Rory's behaviors are actual normal male behaviors. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to most of the questions, but I usually just end up crying with her. "That's how pregnancy is," I'm told by the increasingly annoying Capitol medical team.

Our walk to town is mostly normal. When we pass by our tree, my face turns beat red and Haymitch smirks to no one in particular. Ever since our first visit to the Seam together, the tree has become a regular victim of our lust. I'm not in a very sexual mood today, so I walk a bit faster past the tree and hope that Haymitch won't get any ideas in his head.

When we get to town, I notice immediately that something is wrong. Thick feelings of dread fill my chest as I pick up my pace. People run away from the square screaming. Others are running to the square, their curiosity apparently getting the best of them. I'm one of those curious ones, a desperate need to know what is happening invading all of senses. Haymitch jogs right next to me, a look of concern plastered on his face. We pass by Greasy Sae, who has a large gash running down her face. I yell over the commotion for Haymitch to get her to a safe location. He nods and tells me to stay safe and to meet him over by the Hob when I discover what's happening.

When I get to the square, I see the top of a large pillar in the middle. A group of people stand around it, gasping and whispering to one another. I push through the group to get to the front. Everyone knows me now since I've reached celebrity status as Haymitch's wife, so none of them object as I push through. When I get to the middle, the sight in front of me is so shocking that I can't help the pained gasp that comes from my mouth. Peeta is tied at the foot of the pillar, shirtless and afraid. A man stands next to him with a large whip in hand. Peeta looks terrified by the whip and closes his eyes, bracing for an impact.

"The spouse of this man has fled the district with her assumed lover. Delilah Mellark, when apprehended by authorities of the Capitol of Panem, will face a sentence of death for her crimes against the Capitol and the sacred union of her arranged marriage. Her assumed lover, Thom Overwood, will face a sentence of death for his crimes against the Capitol and the sacred union of Mrs. Mellark's arranged marriage with Mr. Peeta Mellark. Mr. Mellark is facing a sentence of 60 lashes for aiding the escapees," the man with the whip announces. I see cameras around that I didn't notice before, most surely Capitol leeches trying to get the first scoop on this dramatic event. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the man's words when he lifts up the whip for the first time and then smashes it down on Peeta's back.

The sight makes me absolutely sick and I lean over, depositing whatever might have been in my stomach onto the ground. A person near me pats me on the back, obviously thinking that the pregnant girl just can't handle a disgusting sight. It's not the sight of carnage that bothers me. It's the fact that it's happening to the sweetest man in the entire world. I stand there, feeling helpless as he is lashed 5 more times. I can't take it anymore and I stumble up there screaming and begging that the man stop. As soon as I get near Peeta, a fist meets with my face and I'm down on the ground.

"Move, girl. This isn't a place for a hero," the man spits in my face. He's obviously a Peacekeeper, but he doesn't look like any of the men that I'm familiar with. I don't let myself waver. I need to save Peeta.

"Let him go," I sneer back at the man, tears flowing down my face in angry streams. I'm so afraid of the whip in his hand, and my face is already swelling with the impact of his fist, but won't back down. Peeta needs me. Nobody else is going to save him. Peeta is begging me to go, to run away, to go somewhere safe, but I just can't do it.

The man brings the whip back up and down in a flash. It lands on my face and arm with a sickening sound. I can hear my own screams, but I feel somehow disconnected from the situation. Then, the click of a gun. I look up, knowing full well that I am about to die, when I hear him.

"What the Hell are you doing to my wife?" Haymitch yells, running up to us as the Peacekeeper turns the gun to greet him.

"Your _wife _is being insubordinate," he spits, "The penalty is 30 lashes from my whip. She interrupted a Capitol-sanctioned punishment. An 20 additional lashes. And, she refused to comply with an order. 35 additional lashes."

Haymitch steps closer to the man and shakes his head, "I can promise you, you don't want to do that."

The man, who looks like he is seconds from shooting all three of us, squints at Haymitch and raises his gun a bit higher, "Give me one good reason that I shouldn't shoot all three of you."

"My name is Haymitch Abernathy. Sound familiar? Yeah, I'm a victor. This is my wife, Katniss. I'm sure you've seen us on television. We're expecting a baby in June. Now, I can promise you, if the only living Victor in District 12, his wife and their unborn baby are murdered, the president is not going to be very happy. And trust me; he's not going to be mad at Katniss for trying to protect her cousin. He's going to be mad at the guy who killed her for trying to protect her cousin. Those pregnancy hormones make women do crazy things, so why don't we just put the gun away and call it even?" Haymitch's voice is shaky, but it's clear that he's very good at convincing people.

The man takes a moment to considered Haymitch's words. He puts the gun away and screams out orders to the people around, sending them off into a panicked run. My face is absolutely throbbing and a line of blood is dripping into my eye. I wipe it away and feel just how swollen it is. Haymitch unties Peeta and a group of men, including Gale, rush forward to help. 3 men carry Peeta, who is in pain but still conscious, off toward the Seam. I know they are going to my mother's house.

Haymitch leans down next to me and looks at the wound on my face. I feel hot and sick and dizzy. Suddenly, a sob rips threw me and I grab onto him, throwing myself into him for safety and comfort. I didn't realize just how afraid I was until this moment. He strokes my back, urging me to stand up so we can get as far away from the square as possible.

"You stupid girl," he mumbles, rubbing my back affectionately and holding me as close as he can while we run, "I'm so glad you are okay, you stupid girl."

_!_

_7000 words! Wow! That is the longest chapter I've ever written in any story! I'm so excited that I'm finally done with this. I worked on it for the entire day, and it feels so good to be finished! Okay, since I put an obnoxious amount of work into this, I really hope that you will be compelled to review!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Short chapter; mostly filler. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed. I was so excited (thrilled really) about the feedback from last chapter. This is a boring but necessary part of the story. Next chapter, things really start picking up with Haymitch and Katniss. There will be some relationship building between them, some drama in the districts and a bit of rebellion. ;) Please review this one. I'm working on the next as I type this out. **

It's absolute chaos at my mother's house when we arrive. Mother jolts up from her chair and becomes completely lucid at the sight of Peeta's wounds. Her and Prim work expertly at the slashes, cleaning them, cooling them, dressing them in creams and minced herbs and leaves. During the treatment, Peeta jolts up from the table with an agonized wail and I know that I can't watch anymore. I owe it to Peeta to stay, but I feel so faint and sick. I bolt out of the house and nearly trip on my way out, only to catch myself on the railing where I begin to cry.

I can no longer see out of my right eye due to swelling and the pain is getting worse as the adrenaline wears off. My hand is twice its normal size and bleeding as well. I know I should get it treated, but I can't imagine taking any of the attention from Peeta right now. My pain is nothing compares to the pain that I know he is feeling.

I can't believe that the most wonderful person I know, the man who has always taken care of me, who has always loved me unconditionally, is lying on the kitchen table in my mother's house, crippled and bruised and broken because of something that he didn't even do.

It's not Peeta's fault that Delly didn't love him. It's the Capitol's fault that they forced these marriages. Every problem in this district is due to the Capitol and their control. How many innocent people are going to suffer before something changes?

I sit down on the porch and try to calm myself. The dizziness that I feel from my pain is made so much worse by the pregnancy symptoms. As I drop my head into my hands, the door opens up and someone runs out. It's Gale and he barely pauses for a moment to tell me that he is heading to the Victor's Village to retrieve some morphling that Haymitch has stashed there. I urge him to run faster and he sprints out of sight. Even though he hates merchants, I know Gale has a soft spot for Peeta. It's hard not to love Peeta.

"We need to clean your wound, sweetheart," Haymitch calls out from behind me.

"Let them tend to Peeta. I can wait," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. It hurts so badly that I'm nearly hyperventilating, but I don't let him see that.

"I'm not taking no for an answer. If it gets infected, it could hurt the kid," he rationalizes before coming up behind me, putting his arms under my armpits and lifting me up from the ground. He turns me around and looks a bit pale when he inspects my face. He grabs my arm gently and lifts it up to get a good look at it in the light of day. "You're lucky it's not worse… Jumping in front of a Peacekeeper's whip is a good way to put a target on your back."

I scoff at him and the movement of my eye sends shocking pain through my face. Haymitch goes back in the house and comes out with a bowl. It's full of warm water and rags. In his other hand is a bundle of herbs, wrapped up in a handkerchief. He instructs me to sit down and I do as I'm told, not wanting to aggravate him while he's cleaning such a sensitive wound.

He wrings out the excess water from one of the rags and gingerly puts it on my eye. I recoil from the searing feeling and Haymitch removes it, allowing me a moment of weakness.

"Your mother mixed the water with some kind of cream. She said it will prevent infection but I have to clean it well," he puts my good hand in his and takes a deep breath, "Squeeze my hand as hard as you can when it hurts. Just let me clean it quickly and it will be over."

"I trust you," I whisper back to him before clenching my good eye shut and bracing for the torture. When the rag meets my face again, I squeeze as instructed and remind myself that Peeta is suffering so much worse. I hear Haymitch's hand crack in mine, but in all of my selfishness and suffering, I refuse to let him go. Each scrape of the rag against my wound is hellish, but it does eventually come to an end, just as he had promised. I let Haymitch's hand go and he shakes it a few times. I almost feel bad.

"Now for your hand," he says. I withdrawal from him and try to stand up from my spot, but he grabs me and keeps me down. Wordlessly, he places his hand back in mine and I squeeze again as pain courses through the slice that he is cleaning. When he is finished, he applies a thick layer of cream to both wounds and stands up. His hand seems to be causing him pain and I apologize, only to have him shake his head at me dismissively. "You don't become a victor without learning how to tolerate pain."

I gape at his for a moment, shocked by the casual mention of his status. This is one of the first times he has talked about the games to me.

"Close your mouth. We can worry about that some other time. You need to rest. Your mother is worried that this stress is bad for the kid."

I roll myself eyes, at fact that he keep referring to the child as "the kid," and the fact that my mother suddenly cares about my well-being.

I can't bring myself to look at Peeta. Gale finally comes back with the morphling and my sister wastes no time injecting it into his back. At Haymitch's insistence, they store the rest of it away for him later.

"How are your wounds?" Prim asks me, scrutinizing my expressions as she lowers me to the couch. I shrug her off and try not to think about how much it really hurts. "Morphling could hurt the baby, but I can probably mix something up that we can put on it."

"Can you have someone bring it over later?" Haymitch asks her. I stare at him in confusion as I see him pulling on his shoes. "We need to leave."

"What? No, we can't leave until Peeta is better," I object, my voice cracking as I think about something happening to him while we are all the way across the district.

"Katniss," Haymitch implores, "we need to leave. Now."

"I'm not leaving," I scream at him, startling everyone in the room into silence, "_You_ can leave."

Haymitch rubs his hand against his face in obvious frustration. Before I know it, he is lifting me up from the couch and taking me toward the door I hate being picked up like a child and I tell him so, spitting into his face in the process.

"Put me down you bastard!" I scream, kicking at him as hard as I can. I can't understand why nobody is helping me. I feel tears leaking from my eyes and I screech harder, "Please, put me down! Please!" I look at Prim and she is starting to cry too. My mother won't look at me and Gale is just sitting next to Peeta, trying to pretend that he can't hear me. Haymitch opens the door and I take the opportunity to escape his hold, but I'm not quick enough. He grabs me back and pushes me out the door. In one smooth motion, we are outside and Haymitch is gathering me back up and practically running with me away from the mother's house.

I eventually give up the fight after exhaustion takes over. I let myself cry as Haymitch carries me on the outskirts of town and all the way to the path toward Victor's Village. When he finally sets me down, I can't look at him. I'm so angry that I begin to cry even harder.

"Listen here, lady," Haymitch hisses at me, "the Peacekeepers are after that kid now. I just gave him a month's worth of drugs. Now, if someone were to tell those Peacekeepers that a victor is supplying a criminal with morphling, how well do you think that would play out for us, huh? Do you think they are going to take that lightly? We went over there so your mother and sister could patch you up. As far as anyone is concerned, you jumped in front of that kid because you are a pregnant, emotional mess. If you scream and cry and carry on about him, people are going to suspect that your friendship isn't so innocent. If that happens, you can bet your ass that the new Head is going to tie both you and Peeta to that whipping post. And this time, he's not going to be so lenient. You can be pissed off at me, hate me if you want, I don't really care, but I can't watch that happen to you. I can't watch you _die. _Today was a close call." Haymitch's voice breaks at the end and I swallow back my own emotions.

"What happens now?" I ask him. I know I did something dangerous by challenging the new Peacekeeper, but my actions don't seem nearly as severe as what Peeta has been accused of.

Haymitch leans against a nearby tree and pulls me close to him. His breath is hot on my ear as he whispers, "We need to stay away from Peeta. Your mom and Prim will treat him, but _we_ need to stay as far as possible. I will make sure that he gets the message to stay away from you when he is healed. It's just not safe. There will probably be an investigation about the runaways. We will make it a point not to get involved. In fact, as far as the district is concerned, we are too wrapped up in each other and our baby to care. Do you think you can follow that?"

I nod at him and pull away. Before I can move, Haymitch grabs my chin and brings his lips to mine. The kiss is short and sweet, but the look in his eyes when he pulls away from me is more telling than any words.

"Don't get all soft on me, Haymitch," I say, though my heart isn't in it. It's hard not to get wrapped up in his affections.

!

Several days later, I finally learn the consequences of my actions in the square. Two Peacekeepers knock on our front door. Flanked by them is the most evil, powerful man in Panem. The second our eyes meet, my stomach drops. President Snow doesn't visit people at home, I'm sure, unless there is a serious issue to be discussed.

Haymitch and I sit across from him in the living room. My husband looks plays it cool, making jokes and small talk with the president, but I can tell by the subtle tremor of his hand that he is as concerned as I am.

"Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy, it's so lovely to see the both of you again. I trust that you are doing well."

Haymitch nods at him. I don't respond.

"I'm sure you are both wondering why I've made the long trip out to District 12 to see you," he leads, though it's unnecessary. We all know why he's here, "I'm not going to beat around the bush here. Your actions as of late have caused me a bit of a problem."

My throat constricts and I manage to make some sort of noise at him in reply. It comes out like a pained grunt.

"You see, Mrs. Abernathy, there are people in the districts who are not happy with the arranged marriages. In fact, since the marriages took place, there have been small uprisings throughout Panem. Nothing that we haven't been able to subdue, of course, but still troublesome. Naturally, the Capitol has responded to these uprisings. I'm sure you've noticed that your district now has a curfew, as well as Capitol-sanctioned whippings when necessary," Snow doesn't waste any time waiting for our reply, "When it was discovered that Mrs. Delilah Mellark fled the district with her lover, an investigation was immediately launched. Irrefutable evidence was gathered that her husband was involved in the escape. Did you know that, Mrs. Abernathy?"

"No, I was not aware," I manage to croak out. My composure is slipping.

"He aided in their escape. He hid his wife's absence for almost a week. The punishment for his crimes was quite severe, but something stood in the way of him receiving those punishments. I doubt we need to rehash that, do we?"

"No, we don't," I whisper. I wonder if this is the part where he kills me. I look over and Haymitch is absolutely pale. This is not good.

"His punishment was aired live, all over Panem, save for District 12. Which means that most of the country saw the little _stunt_ you pulled when you jumped in front of that whip. Whether you meant to or not, you turned yourself into a symbol for the uprising. A martyr of sorts. The people who used to follow your love story are wondering if your relationship is real. They are speculating that Mr. Mellark is your lover and the real father of your child. The doubt that these people had about the marriage reapings are, in their own minds, being confirmed by your actions. Do you realize how serious this is?"

My throat is completely dry and the dam that holds in my panicked tears is about to break. I nod at the president and blink quickly several times, desperate to hold it together.

"Now, there is no need to get emotional. I'm not here to upset you, Katniss. That's not good for the baby," Snow reaches over and gives my belly a soft pat, "Which brings me to my next point."

Snow rises from his seat, grabs a bag from one of the Peacekeepers, and brings it back to his seat. He delicately sits back down before opening the bag, pulling out a tool and handing it over to Haymitch.

"Tell me what you see on that monitor," Snow instructs us. I lean over to look at the screen and my breath catches. On the screen is a tiny little thing, hardly recognizable as a child, but a child, nonetheless."

"It's a baby," I exhale, looking from the monitor to Haymitch, trying to gauge his reaction. There isn't one. His face is completely blank. He is staring at the little red blob, so underdeveloped and small and unreal looking.

"That's right. It is a baby. Not your baby, but a baby at the same gestation as yours. 11 week, 5 days. It's the child of a couple in the Capitol. They've agreed to have a camera implanted in the mother's womb so we can watch their child grow," he tells us with a sinister smile on his face, "Every time that you feel the need to intervene in something Capitol-related, I want you to take a look at this monitor. I want you to see what your child looks like. Watch the growth. Realize that it is relying on you to keep it safe. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your child, would you?"

"Of course not," I tell him, unable to tear my eyes away from the child on the screen. My baby looks like that child; a mini blob that is just starting to take the shape of an actual person. The underlying threat in Snow's voice is not lost on me. If I slip up again, the child inside of me will die. It will never be more than a tiny blob, much like the one on the screen.

"Wonderful. I have several interviews scheduled for you in the coming months, as well as a few commercials. You will spend your time convincing the districts that your marriage is strong, that you are a team and that you are in love. Talk about your baby, tell stories, kiss; I don't care what you do, but show the districts that your love story is real."

"We'll convince them," I tell him, praying that he'll believe me.

"No, Mrs. Abernathy," he says, looking unwaveringly into my eyes as he emphasizes every syllable, "convince me."

As he leaves, he gives us one final instruction. We are both to look at the monitor of the Capitol baby once a day. He tells us that he will know if we don't.

**Love it? Hate it? Let me know.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much to the people who read and reviewed the previous chapter! I'm sorry I wasn't able to respond to each one individually. I will this chapter, though! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It's a little bit boring in my opinion, but necessary to the story. **

At 14 weeks pregnant, I feel myself slipping away. The depression that I've felt since the marriage reaping- no, actually, since my father died- has taken a dramatic turn for the worse. I can manage to muster up some giggly smiles and happy sentiments while the cameras are around, because the threat of death is lingering over everything I do, but the second they leave, exhaustion and numbness take over in waves.

I have to give credit to Haymitch. I expected him to let me waste away and wallow in my justified hell, but he makes sure I eat. He makes sure I bathe. He tries to make me laugh. It's not his fault that nothing works.

"Katniss," he tells me one afternoon, as I stare out our bedroom window, "you can't keep doing this. You need to fight."

"Fight what?" I croak out, my voice hoarse from underuse.

"Fight whatever it is that is happening to you."

"Nothing is happening to me, okay? I'm pregnant and tired. I'm fine," I snap at him. I wish he would go away.

Rather than respond to my attack, he puts a hand on the cover of our bed where the silhouette of my knee is visible. He squeezes is a little bit, in an almost enduring way, before turning his back to me completely. For a moment, he says nothing at all. The silence between us is uncomfortable and I can't figure out exactly what he is doing. When he opens his mouth to speak, I'm shocked by his words.

"These marriage reapings are a total fucking joke. I'm only saying this to you because we are safe at home, and I'll deny it if you ask me outside of these walls, but these arranged marriages were the shittiest thing they've come up with, other than the actual Games. It sucked to get married. It sucked to have to do all of this. I didn't want this either, sweetheart. I didn't want a wife and kids, because I know what happens to the family of a victor. I know that the Capitol audience loves to watch a Victor mentor his own flesh and blood. It's almost a guarantee," he keeps his back to me, which I'm grateful for, because hot tears are racing down my cheeks with his every word.

"When I was a kid, before my reaping, I had a girl of my own. Sometimes I would think about a future with her. Kids and all of that. And I knew if she wanted that, I would do it for her. She wasn't the kind of girl that took no for an answer," I can almost hear the smile in his voice at the mention of his girl, "but then I was reaped, and when I came back, they were all gone. Dead. My family, my girl and her family. The Capitol was punishing me because I didn't play by their rules. That's what the Capitol does, Katniss. They get revenge when you break the rules. But I'm gonna play by them now. Do you want to know why?"

I wait for him to continue, rather than answer, because the air between us is so thick with his confession that I can hardly breathe.

"I'm gonna play by their rules this time because I learned my lesson. I lost every single person I loved… But I have a new family now. You and the kid are my new family, whether I like it or not. And I'm going to protect you for the rest of my life. If that means I die protecting you, then God dammit that's what it means. Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper back to him, trying to prevent the sobs from escaping my throat. My sadness and fear is bottled so tightly inside of my chest, suffocating me, beating me, wearing me down. I never used to be like this, so hysterical and out-of-control. I was a strong woman, capable of supporting her family and keeping food on the table. Better with a bow than any other person in the district. A hunter, a trader, a breadwinner. And here I am now, lying in this plush, Victor's Village bed, being comforted and reassured by the man I am forced to call my husband. Inside of me is a child, growing and growing and growing, preparing to come into this sick world that is dead set on seeing it battle to the death. None of this is okay. But Haymitch is vowing to keep us safe, as much as he possibly can, and I need to make that mean something. I need his words to be more than words, because it's no longer just me.

Haymitch finally turns around and I can see that his eyes are clearer and more sober than ever. There isn't a trace of alcohol stench on his body or clothes, and I find that his natural musk is much more pleasant than the liquor odor I'm accustomed to.

"Part of taking care of you means preventing you from becoming a depressed homebody. You need to get out of bed. I made you something to eat. It's downstairs waiting for you," with that, Haymitch stands up from the bed and leaves the room without another word. I think being sober and having a deep conversation at the same time is probably too much for him to handle.

Understanding that I don't really have a choice in the matter, I get myself dressed in a loose-fitting pair of stretch pants and a large sweater before treading my way downstairs. The trip is actually exhausting, due to my weeks of inactivity, and I have to grab the railing for a break half-way down. I'm already much more out of breath due to my pregnancy and the slightest physical labor seems to make it worse.

When I finally get down to the stairs and plop down at the kitchen table, I'm greeted by an amount of food that could feed a small army. Haymitch is standing at the stove, flipping something in a pan. When he notices me at the table, he nearly drops the pan and grumbles angrily to himself.

"What is all of this?" I ask him, surveying the food, plate by plate. Almost every item on the table is something that we've bought during one of my moments of craving. Years of malnourishment coupled with my newest condition have given me an appetite that can only compare to that of a coalminer after a 10 hour shift. I've probably sampled every single food that is available to someone in district 13, and with Haymitch's victor money, I could probably have them all again, once a month, for the rest of my life. In front of me are all of my favorite delicacies, stacked on top of each other, steaming and dripping in sauces and powders and emitting the most beautiful, mouth-watering smells. I didn't realize I was starving until just now.

"I made you dinner. Eat."

I startle from my reverie to drink in his words, but it's hard to comprehend while I'm drunk off of food-smells.

"You made all of these," I say slowly, disbelievingly.

"Every last one. It took me a damn long time too. You're welcome," he says nonchalantly, but the act is so sweet that I have to hold myself back from replying something completely out of my character.

"How many people are you trying to feed? There are only two of us," I say back to him, keeping my voice level and disinterested, trying not to let Haymitch see how touched I am by the meal.

"There are three of us, Katniss. I want that kid to be fat. A fat kid who never goes hungry."

I laugh at his words and nod. I want that too. I want that more than anything.

"I can't eat all of this," I tell him with a smile on my face. He looks content in his sobriety right now, and it's hard not to take some joy from that.

"Eat as much as you can. You need to gain some weight," he says, and I know he's right. In my recent state, I haven't been eating like I should. The roundness of my stomach seems to grow, but the rest of me steadily shrinks. The doctors told me that I shouldn't even be showing at this point, but I'm so thin that there is nothing to conceal the swelling of my middle. I think of Haymitch's desire for our child to be chunky, and I know it's my job to make that happen. I start piling food on my plate like this is my last meal.

I spoon a large slab of meat covered in gravy over a pile of potatoes that are swimming in a creamy, butter sauce. I sprinkle some sort of cheese over it all and add a few heaping mounds of vegetables on the small space that remains. My plate is completely full and almost too heavy for me. Just as I'm about to dig in, Haymitch comes up behind me and reaches over my shoulder to set a bun on my plate. I grab the bun and dip it in gravy before sticking it in my mouth greedily. When the taste of cheese hits my tongue, I know I'm going to cry and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

Haymitch made me buns with cheese, my all-time favorite dish, and the snack that Peeta always made me when I was sad. Cheese buns are more than just bread to me. They symbolize the past, my love for Peeta, and more significantly, his love for me. They bring me back to warm summer mornings when he and I would meet up near the woods, and he would hand me a bag of the treat to share with Prim after the reaping. We would hold each other tightly, painfully tight, hoping that it wouldn't be the last time we would embrace. Those were the worst days for me, wondering if I would get reaped, wondering if Prim would starve, yet Peeta brightened them with his cheesy bread and his loving arms.

And now Haymitch has made them for me, to convince me that I need to take care of myself, for the sake of his child. Haymitch's cheese buns are different than Peeta's, not as perfectly shaped or as flaky, but they are perfect in their own way. They are from his heart, and he's not a man to show his heart very easily. It means a lot.

I let the tears pour out of my eyes as I eat my meal. Haymitch is still working behind me, and I'm grateful that he hasn't noticed my weakness. All I seem to do around this man is show weakness, and it's not a very good feeling.

I want him to see me as the person I was before, the person I was 6 months ago, before the parasite child and the awful hormones took over my body. I was someone that my sister looked up to. I was a mother figure in my own way. I braved the woods every day to provide for the people I loved. I wasn't a weepy, depressed lump who cried at the site of cheese-filled bread. This child is ruining my entire life and I hate myself for feeling this way.

I hear his footsteps behind me and quickly wipe my tears before he has a chance to see their tracks. He sits across from me at the table and starts to stack his own plate high with food, completely ignoring me. I watch him eat for a few seconds until he finally makes eye contact. When he does, I divert my eyes away and spoon another pile of potatoes onto my plate.

"You're crying," he declares. It's definitely not a question.

"It's the hormones. They're horrible," I tell him, biting into a potatoes and trying to hide my embarrassment. Haymitch is more observing than I gave him credit for.

"It's not just the hormones. Don't feed me that bullshit," he says, taking another bite but never looking away from me.

"Why did you make me cheese buns?" I ask him.

He grabs one of the buns from the plate and takes a bite of it, chewing carefully before answering, "I saw the boy bring you some. They must be your favorite. That's why he brought them… Am I right?"

"They are," I reply before grabbing another bun for myself. Something about Haymitch's versions of my favorite bread is addicting. I devour the starch in a few big bites and reach out for another. When I take a break from my binge, I look up to see Haymitch watching me with a raised brow.

"The way you eat, people are going to think I'm starving you," he says with a slight chuckle, wiping a drop of gravy from the stubble on his face.

"I'm eating for two," I tell him shortly before shoving one more bun into my mouth. When I finish my meal completely, I drink a tall glass of water and make my way over to the couch. The food weighs me down comfortably and I know I'm going to fall asleep with little effort at all. Haymitch follows me to the couch and sits down. When my eyes start to close, he positions me so that my head is resting on his shoulder. With closed eyes, I bring my left arm around so that it is wrapped around his stomach and I let myself fall into a deep sleep, my body held tightly to my husband's side.

!

After our talk, I try to make myself feel better about bringing a child into this world. The Capitol doctors give me pamphlets about normal behavior during pregnancy, and I aim to accomplish each major stage of pregnancy on their lists.

According to the information, nesting is an important aspect for the mother. It includes cleaning, preparing for the baby's arrival and organizing. Cleaning has never been my favorite thing, but I've decided to do the bare bones amount to feel like I'm functioning properly as a pregnant woman. Haymitch, on a boring day, decides to join me, and we sort through my large pile of clothing.

"How much longer until we have to start buying you new clothes?" he asks me while holding up a pair of my pants. Before I have the chance to answer him, an envelope falls out of the pocket. It only takes a moment to realize that it is the letter that Peeta slipped me, months ago. I forgot to read it and now the risk is higher than ever, given his status as a rebel and criminal.

Haymitch seems to realize this quickly and completely ignores the letter, covering it up with a shirt while we continue to sort through the items.

"I'll probably need new pants soon," I say, though my throat is dry and hoarse at the sight of Peeta's note.

"If you keep eating at this rate, you'll need new pants every day," he remarks.

A loud laugh bursts out of me and I throw a t-shirt at him from the pile. I get a cocky smirk in return and the nerves seem to seep out of me. Haymitch, in the 4 months that we've been married, has caught on to exactly how he can calm me down. People in the district would be in awe if they saw the way this man acts when nobody else is around. He's funny- hilarious even- and smart. He can cook, he cleans and he functions pretty well without the steady supply of liquor coursing through him.

That's not to say that he doesn't drink anymore, because he definitely does. If just not as often or as much as it was before we were married. The semi-sober Haymitch that I call my husband is a decent man. Not enough people get to see him in this light.

"Did you look at the baby today?" He asks me quietly. I nod in reply and pretend that I'm too engrossed in my laundry sorting to elaborate. The Capitol baby is growing like a weed on the monitor and I'm forced to stare at it every day. I'm forced to know that my child looks just like it, and that the Capitol has 100 percent control over whether the tiny little thing inside of me will make it out alive.

"I need a drink," he grumbles and struggles to stand up from the floor. He grunts and hunches over a little, complaining about sitting on the floor in his old age. In the process, he tosses a wadded-up shirt at me and I know the letter from Peeta is wrapped inside.

I kill a few minutes by sorting through the laundry and manage to tuck the shirt underneath my waistband. I excuse myself from the house with the excuse that I need a bit of fresh air. When I get to a part of the district that I know is without cameras, I grab the envelope and quickly rip it open. I need to read and comprehend his words as quickly as possible before heading back to the house.

With shaking hands, I pull Peeta's letter from its envelope and put it up to my nose. It still smells of Peeta, all baked goods, sugar and cinnamon. I close my eyes and take several deep inhales before I finally open it to read his beautiful calligraphy.

_Dear Katniss,_

_I really hope this letter doesn't upset you too much. I have a lot to say, and I'm not sure how many opportunities I will get to write you. First off, let me tell you that I'm sorry you were paired with Haymitch Abernathy, of all people. I wish we'd married when we had the chance. It hurts to think you are going to spend your life with a drunken victor. I didn't picture that for you. I never wanted that for you, Katniss. _

_Sometimes at night, when I can't sleep, I try to picture my life if you and I were married. I picture our kids- a little girl with brown braids and a little blonde haired boy- running in the meadow, playing in the mud, trying to catch butterflies as we watch from the distance… I feel guilty for having these thoughts. I know it won't happen for us now, and it breaks my heart. _

_I hope Haymitch can be a better man, for you. I know you were paired together for a reason, and I hope Haymitch realizes what a lucky man he really is. He has the girl of my dreams. _

_I don't want to dwell too much on that right now, since I do know you are pregnant. It wouldn't be right for me to elaborate on my feelings when you are mother to another man's child. I did hear about the meeting that the victors and their spouses had with the president. I know you were all given an ultimatum about conceiving immediately. I can't elaborate on exactly what I know, but I want you to know that I understand why you did what you did…_

_There is something happening in the districts, Katniss. People are rebelling; they are so angry over these marriages and the games. I think this is the breaking point. Apparently, there has been talk of a full-scale rebellion. District 11 has had at least 3 documented uprisings in the month since the marriage reaping. They resulted in the deaths of both citizens and Peacekeepers. _

_You need to be careful. Being the wife of a victor is a dangerous position for anyone, but especially for you. Haymitch isn't known for his good behavior. You need to be cautious about everything you do. Don't trust anyone. Don't try to hunt. If you see anything strange happening, just turn the other cheek. You need to focus on you and the baby right now. Nothing else. I hope you will listen to me (for once), you stubborn girl. _

_Before I wrap this up, there's one more important thing that you need to know. Delly is in love with Thom, one of the miners who works with Gale. He turned 18 the day after the marriage reaping so he wasn't eligible to marry her beforehand. I've agreed to cover for her while they leave the district. I can't force her to stay here and be miserable with me for the rest of her life. If one of us can be with the person that we love, it might as well be her._

_If anything happens to me, I want you to know that I love you. I've loved you since the first day I saw you. Be safe, Katniss. For me._

_With all of my love,_

_Peeta_

_P.S Don't risk writing back. Your entire house is wired with Capitol cameras and microphones. But I'm sure you already knew that._

When I finish the letter, my head starts to spin. I've had a few blackouts in the past few weeks, but nothing compared to this. My breaths are shallow and labored, and my vision is swimming. I sit against a nearby tree and rest my head back against it.

I'm so shocked by the things Peeta wrote to me. Could there really be a full-scale rebellion? How did he know that cameras are in Haymitch's house? How is he even getting this information?

Peeta really _did_ help Delly and Thom flee the districts. He risked his life to help them be free from these arranged marriages.

Stupid, selfless Peeta.

"What did the kid's letter say?" Haymitch asks from behind me. His voice startles me out of my thoughts and I grab my stomach, feeling a sharp cramp in the lower region. I toss the letter over to him and try to calm my breathing. Stress is bad for the baby. I've only had the doctors tell me this a hundred times.

When he finishes reading, a dark look washes over his features. I've never seen Haymitch look so serious in my life.

"The boy shouldn't be involving you in these things. If District 12 rebelled, it would be a massacre. Everyone knows that. You don't need to be worried about these things, ok?"

I avoid his eyes and continue taking deep breaths.

"Sweetheart, look at me."

I glance up at him and he kneels down in front of me, never breaking eye contact.

"Don't worry about what your little boyfriend says. He's digging around in dangerous territory and it's only going to hurt him."

As we walk back to our house, I know that's not the truth. No matter how far away he is from me, Peeta is still in my heart. Whatever happens to him affects me more than I care to admit.

**Also kind of a filler chapter. The next 4 chapters will be jam packed, and I'm mega excited to start them for you folks. You are literally the light of my life. Your reviews bring me more joy than anything. Please do leave some reviews if you feel so inclined. Thanks for reading, and check back soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

(early/mid March)

Effie Trinket stands over me with a look of deep contemplation on her face. She holds a makeup brush in one hand and a small pallet of beige-colored goop in the other. She runs the brush frantically over my face, forcing me to swallow back a gag at the distinct Capitol odor. Cameramen set up around us at all angles, covering the living room with cords and equipment that look entirely too easy to break. Two women dust everything in sight, a not-so-subtle jab at my ability to keep a clean house.

Needless to say, I'm over the whole ordeal already.

Snow decided to celebrate the half-way mark of my pregnancy with a lavish celebration in the Capitol. Luckily for me, he decided I shouldn't be in attendance in my fragile state. I didn't argue with him.

Haymitch walks in the room, looking cleaner than usual in a suit made for him by Capitol designers. He gives everything a once-over before settling his gaze on me. He looks me up and down, smirking when his eyes reach the middle of my body. The dress I've been instructed to wear is baggy all around, except for my stomach, where the material is pulled tight. It shows off the growth I've experienced in the last few weeks, giving me a motherly look.

He'll tease me relentlessly about it the moment the Capitolites are gone.

"Haymitch, Katniss, come sit on the couch here. Haymitch, put your arm around her shoulders. Katniss, sit with your ankles crossed. Lean into him a bit, yes, like that, we want to see that cute little baby bump darling!"

Effie squints at me for a moment before grabbing her makeups and dabbling more on my face.

"Alright, Trinket, I think sweetheart looks enough like a doll. No need to drown her in the stuff," he pushes her hand away from my face and leans over to whisper in my ear, "You look nice, little mother."

I give him what I'm sure is a look of annoyance and he responds with a wink and laughs to himself. The cameraman smiles at us and I see that the red light of the camera is on. They must have captured the moment Haymitch and I just had. I resist the urge to roll my eyes while thinking about how the viewers will eat it up.

Across the room, I see our interviewer, Caesar Flickerman, put a final touch of hairspray on his over-the-top hairdo. He flashes a pearly white smile at me and strides confidently over to his seat.

It's not often that they send celebrities to outlying districts. I'll have to be on my best behavior.

"Katniss, you look stunning! Absolutely stunning! And that bump? Wow. You must be thrilled, Haymitch. That's one big baby in there!" Caesar gushes.

I give him my best Capitol smile and put a hand on my belly before letting out the most sickeningly-sweet giggle I can muster up.

"If it's a boy, he'll be strong and handsome, like his father," I muse, looking at Haymitch slyly.

"If it's a girl, she'll be a stunner, also like her father," he jokes.

I elbow him gently in the side before leaning over to peck his cheek. The stubble there is already starting to peak through, despite Effie's frantic wax treatment.

This is our game. In private, when the cameras are gone and our interviews play over and over again on the television, we mock each other's sultry demeanor and the corny lines we feed to the suckers watching.

It's all a game, us against them.

"You two are something else. So cute! Do we have any names picked out for the little angel yet?"

The way he said 'we' doesn't sit right with me. If he thinks the Capitol is going to give my kid a name like Phellinus or Coriolanus he's got another thing coming to him.

"We do, actually, though we would love to surprise our friends out there with the name, as well as the gender, _when_ the child is born. We thought it would be more fun for everybody," Haymitch replies smoothly.

"That's fantastic! What a wonderful idea, Haymitch! And what exactly are you hoping for? A daughter or a son?" Caesar inquires.

"I just want a healthy child. It will be a handful no matter what it is, given its mother and her history of being a handful."

I feign a look of hurt and flick his shoulder.

"See how he treats me, Caesar? He calls the mother of his child a handful!"

I try to scoot away from Haymitch and he wraps his arms a bit tighter around my shoulders and gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek. He laughs at my reaction and looks at Caesar like they are old friends.

"Do you see what I mean? A handful!"

"Oh, now that doesn't seem fair, Haymitch! Katniss has to deal with all of the hormones that come with pregnancy. All you have to do is sit around and try not to provoke her," Caesar chuckles at his own joke and turns to me, "Katniss, tell us a bit about cravings. Anything in particular that you can't keep away from?"

"Pickled eggs," I blurt out without having to think, "and goat cheese… And lamb stew from the Capitol."

"The one with the dried plums?" Caesar asks.

"Yes. Just the thought of it makes me hungry!" I exclaim, playing up my pregnancy symptoms for the audience.

"That's my favorite as well. In fact, we brought a bit for you on the train here. A little birdie told us you might enjoy it and President Snow himself made sure we brought some, special for you! Isn't that wonderful?" Caesar exclaims. His face lights up in preparation for some grand reaction from me over a fucking dish.

I bring my hand up to my mouth and gasp, forcing a smile onto my face that is much too big to be real.

"That's amazing! Thank you so much President Snow," I smile into the camera, "I know what I'm having for supper now… I'm not sure there will be any left for Haymitch."

We all laugh and Caesar wraps up the interview.

"I think we'd better leave Katniss to enjoy her meal! Live all the way from District 12, this is Caesar Flickerman, signing off!"

He waves to the camera and we follow suit. The moment the red light of the camera goes off, my smile follows behind. I let a scowl take over my face. My cheeks actually burn from the effort of being happy.

"Great job, you two. I'm sure the Capitol will eat up your happy family act," Caesar says nonchalantly.

I gape at him, shocked he would say something so blunt.

"What do you mean by 'act'? That kind of accusation could be damaging to our reputations," Haymitch grunts.

"Haymitch, I've know you for decades. I know how you are," Caesar whispers, all humor wiped from his face, "and I know a bit more about all of this than you may think. Just keep doing what you're doing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two actually are in love."

Caesar shoots us a little wink and starts motioning for people to clean up. Effie grabs her makeup, tucks it neatly into her case, and waves before ducking out the front door.

Our Capitol intruders are gone as quickly as they'd shown up.

"Glad that's over," Haymitch sighs. He motions over to a box by the front door, "Your stew is in there, sweetheart. Better eat something before the kid starts eating your guts."

"That's not exactly how it works," I retort snottily before walking over to the box and inspecting the contents. A special present from Snow, just to be nice? I don't think so.

I grab the food and toss it into a nearby garbage can. Haymitch snorts from his spot on the couch.

"I made you some of those eggs. They're tucked in the back of the fridge," Haymitch grabs a bottle of white liquor from inside the couch cushion, "Was hiding them from you so they could actually pickle this time."

"A man after my own heart," I joke before grabbing the jar from the fridge.

I settle next to him on the couch and start to eat. I never really believed that pregnant women had strong cravings until I started having them myself. I pity the Seam women who don't have the means to indulge in any kind of craving, pregnancy-induced or not.

"Caesar had some interesting things to say," I mention quietly, hoping Haymitch will elaborate on the topic.

I stare at him, but his eyes refuse to meet mine.

"Let's not worry about that right now," he cautions me and takes a long swig from his bottle.

He hasn't been drinking much lately. I take his sudden clutching of the bottle as a sign that I should be worried.

!

(mid-April)

Things are strained in the district, more now than ever before. Rarely does anyone leave their homes unless it is to purchase essentials from town. No one really has the money to afford the high prices that Merchants ask for their goods now, so that doesn't happen very often. The Hob was set on fire and everything inside was destroyed. Without the Black Market, much of the Seam is dying.

I leave as much food as I can with my mom and Prim. They keep what they need and subtly distribute the leftovers to the neediest Seam families.

Though Spring is finally peeking through the leftovers of Winter, things have never looked so bleak in District 12.

I try to walk to my mother's house every other day, but the later I get in my pregnancy, the harder it is for me to make the trip. My ankles swell at the mere thought of walking miles and I spend most of my day in bed, trying to figure out how to get my energy back.

The child on the Capitol monitor develops more every day. It is now clearly a little boy.

I hate looking at it and seeing that my own child is so close to being ready. I don't want to bring a little baby into this world.

I picture the moment we will meet, how it will look, how light it will feel in my arms, wholly innocent and vulnerable to the dangers of the world.

If I have to flee the district when he or she is 11 years old, I will. I won't let this baby be reaped. I won't stand behind the barrier on Reaping day, watching Effie Trinket call its name, watching my flesh and blood shaking up on the stage, seeing Haymitch off to the side, watching them climb up the steps of the train.

It can't happen.

Until then, I'll do everything I need to do to keep Snow out of my hair. If that means I never see Peeta or Gale again, so be it. If that means I entertain the Capitol once a month with my mindless anecdotes about my happy marriage and my loving husband, so be it. I'll do anything to keep my child alive.

"Anything you need to discuss, little mother?" Haymitch asks from across the room, staring quizzically my way.

"Just thinking about the future," I respond, looking down at my abdomen accusingly. 15 more weeks and it will start to flatten out again. Only 15 more weeks.

"Not long now," Haymitch says, sipping a mug of coffee. I wonder if there is any alcohol in it.

"Not long at all," I say back. And it's true. 15 weeks is really nothing in the scheme of life. The last 25, as miserable as they were, flew by so incredibly fast.

Haymitch sits down beside me and pulls me into him. I rest my head on his chest, close my eyes and breathe in his scent. No alcohol on his breath, just the comforting scent of coffee.

He sets a hand on my stomach and rubs gently. I relish in the feel of his hand on me, keeping our little one safe in his own way. His touch is a promise to the child. He's willing to do everything in his power to make sure the child has a long, safe and happy life.

"You know, if there was anyone in the world I had to be stuck with for the rest of my life, I'm glad now that it is you," he whispers.

I let myself smile and lean further into his embrace.

"Don't get soft on me, Abernathy."

"Just blame it on my old age," he replies.

We sit in a comfortable silence until we hear a knock on the door. Haymitch wordlessly pulls away from me to answer it.

I hear him open the door and exchange a few heated words with the person on the other side. Normally, I would strain to hear the conversation, but I'm past the days of trying to keep informed with everything going on. I'm so tired, so swollen, so mopey and whiny and completely unlike the person I used to be. I just don't have the energy to care.

After a few minutes of quiet arguing, Haymitch storms back into the room looking furious. I allow him a few moments of private stewing before finally asking what happened.

"They are suspending all food deliveries to the district until after the games are through," he mutters while grabbing a bottle of liquor from the end table. I expect him to pop it open and start swigging it straight from the bottle.

"Th-they can't do that, Haymitch. Everyone in the district will starve! The games don't even start for 3 months. They can't do that!"

"They can, Katniss. They've done it before. Weak, starving people can't rebel. They're too busy dying to exert that kind of energy."

He puts his liquor under the cabinet and locks it, handing me the key.

"I'll have to ration my liquor. Ripper's been sneaking me extras, but she won't be able to make any for a while and the Capitol includes alcohol in their embargo."

I jump up from the couch and glare at him, sick to my stomach by his words.

"Your liquor? You really care about your damn liquor right now, Haymitch? The entire district is going to _starve_ and you are worried about getting your fix!" I scream at him, shaking with rage at his blatant disregard for our district, our friends, my family.

He raises an eyebrow at me, grabs my hand, puts the key into it and folds it closed.

"I've been drinking for almost 25 years. Do you know what happens when someone quits drinking cold turkey, sweetheart? It's called withdrawal. And I hate to break it to you, but it'll kill me long before starving can," he explains.

I sit back down, trying to digest what he's just told me.

"You can die from not drinking?" I choke out.

"I can, but I won't. I have a stash. I just need to ration it. You keep the key and I'll let you know when I need a drink. You'll give me a shot or two, nothing more than that, and I'll be fine."

"But what if you aren't? What's going to happen to you?" I stutter. I'm desperate now for him to quell my fears.

It's bad enough that our district is going to be deprived of food, that the Capitol is doing everything they can to break our spirit and kill our people. I can't watch Haymitch die too. I can't be left to face the Capitol alone, to raise a child alone, to be a widow. As much as I hate to admit it, I can't be left without _Haymitch_. He's become as big a part in my life as anyone. Maybe even bigger. We created life together. I can't lose him.

Just the thought makes me chest tighten in panic. In response, my body begins to betray me. A long, sharp pain strikes and I gasp, clutching onto my stomach. I haven't felt pain like this since the day Peeta showed up on our doorstep.

Haymitch is next to me in a second, one hand on my back and the other on my stomach.

"Katniss, babe, look at me," his voice is calming and firm, but I'm getting so disoriented by the pain that I can't focus in on his words, "C'mon, deep breaths for me. Listen to me, sweetheart, that baby isn't ready to come out right now. You need to calm down."

Another horrible pain in my side sends me to the floor, on my knees, an animalistic cry ripping from my throat and echoing loudly in our living room. I wrap my hands around my middle and hope that it will bring relief.

It doesn't.

Haymitch is on the ground with me, a look of panic in his eyes like I've never seen before. He almost looks young, like a scared child who needs reassuring. I grab his hand and squeeze hard as the pain inside of me almost brings me to the point of blacking out.

I lay down on the ground in a state of complete confusion. I'm dizzy and everything is muffled around me. Haymitch is on the phone. He's kneeling next to me. He's talking. My eyes want to shut and the pain seems to disconnect from me. Or my mind disconnects from the pain. Or both. I don't know. I caress my small stomach and wonder if the small little thing will be okay. If I will be okay. Or Haymitch. Our district. The world.

He's holding a needle now. He grabs my arm, oh so gently, too gently, and jabs me with the needle. I stare up at him, unable to hear a thing now, and look into his eyes. Something about his eyes brings me peace. This is the last thought I have before I fall away.


	9. Chapter 9

(mid-April cont.)

Sweetheart's face is white as a sheet when I gather her up in my arms to take her to bed. Her skin is cold and clammy, pale and lifeless. The injection I gave her is supposed to stop the progress of her pains, which the doctor told me are most likely contractions. It was also supposed to knock her out, which it did quite well.

It also makes her look dead.

Part of me wanted to refuse to give her the needle. I don't even know what it was filled with. It's from the damn Capitol, for Christssake. When the doctor reminded me that going into labor now would be dangerous for not just the baby, but for Katniss as well, I knew I had no other choice. The Capitol doctors need at least a few hours to get to 12. Time was not on our side.

I have to reassure myself when I look at her. She looks like a corpse. I'm all too familiar with the look of the dead. I've escorted a lot of people- children, really- to their deaths. I won't be able to live with myself if inadvertently killed my wife.

God dammit, I never wanted this crazy life. I know she didn't either, but I think I was more against settling down than even her.

Victors don't get to have comfortable lives. We don't get the wife and the kids, the joy, the laughter and all of that other shit that people used to have before the Dark Days. The shit that people in the Capitol still get to have.

We don't get to keep a life so fluffy. Life in the Districts is full of fear and uncertainty, even for victors.

I tried to avoid getting attached to Katniss. I tried to avoid getting attached to the baby. I tried to drink myself away from it all, to remember why I've been such an asshole for the last 25 years, to remember why I never wanted to date or love or _feel_ anything for anyone.

She doesn't understand the effect she has on people. She doesn't understand that everyone around her seems to love her, appreciate her, and want to take care of her, no matter what she does. People in the Hob, people in the Seam, many of the old Peacekeepers, the Mellarks, the Hawthornes and almost everyone in-between…They are wrapped up in the fierce little survivalist who has become a celebrity in the district, previously as a poacher, a huntress, and now as a victim of the marriage reaping and the wife of a victor.

I find myself as wrapped up in Katniss as everyone else.

I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what's going on in her head. Sometimes I get her to come out of her shell and show me the woman she really is, underneath all her pain and fear. She shows me the person she would be without the constant struggle to survive.

She's funny, smart, flirty. She's guarded. She's protective and caring. She can also be irrational and dangerous, though I don't fear her. I know she's come to care for me too.

Maybe it's out of necessity, maybe because the growing thing inside of her is influencing her feelings, or maybe because she needs me. But she cares. That's all I could ask for, given our circumstances.

I take vigil next to her bed, holding her hand with mine and our child with my other. I run my palm over the smoothness of her belly, which grows tauter and rounder with each passing day. I don't know if I'm ready to be a father, but I'm definitely ready to meet the kid, the only other Abernathy in the world.

I don't have much experience with babies. Sometimes when I'm in the Capitol for the games, sponsors ask me to hold their little ones. They squirm and cry a lot. They are helpless. Helplessness and District 12 don't go well together.

Sitting by her bed, waiting for her eyes to finally pop open, I pass the time wondering what life will be like for us after the baby is born. Tiring, I'm sure. I wonder what she will be like as a mother. Fiercely protective and vigilant, I'm guessing. I wonder what I will be like as a father. That I can't guess. It's too hard to tell at this point. But I know I'll love the kid. I already do.

"C'mon, sweetheart. It's time to wake up," I whisper to her, hoping that she might hear me in her unconsciousness.

The house is lonely without her.

The front door opens up and I stiffen. The Capitol doctors aren't due to be here for a few more hours. I grab a small knife from the bedside table and turn around, prepared to greet the intruder with a knife to the throat.

The person runs up the stairs and I stand in a fighting stance, my back toward my resting wife.

They come through the door and…

It's a peacekeeper, with Katniss' mother in tow.

"I advise you to put down your weapon, Mr. Abernathy. We've been instructed to bring Mrs. Everdeen here to inspect her daughter and the child. She is to stay here with your wife until medical professionals from the Capitol arrive," he explains. When I nod at him, he turns and walks out of the room, down the stairs and out of the front door. Good riddance.

Cappie doesn't say much to me. She sets down a small medical bag on the trunk at the end of our bed and opens it up, pulling out a long metal contraption. I've seen more updated versions of the tool in the Capitol doctor's bags.

She looks over at me and smiles softly as she pulls things out. A jelly-looking mixture, gauze and a few vials of something.

"Are you alright, Haymitch? You look ill," she comments.

"Been better," I admit. I try not to make any eye contact with her. Everdeen women always know how to read me like a book. Katniss, Cappie, even Primrose looks at me like she can hear all my thoughts.

"It's normal to be afraid. Premature labor is a scary thing for the mother_ and_ the father. The Peacekeepers explained to me what medicine you gave her. She's lucky to have doctors with such resources. It should keep Katniss from going into labor for at least 2 more months, if she follows their instructions and stays on bed rest."

"Bed rest? That'll go over well," I groan, rubbing my face with my hands and trying to picture Katniss lying in bed for months. She'll have a fit.

"She'll have to. It's not up to her anymore. If she goes into labor now, the odds of the baby being born healthy are low, even with the Capitol's best technology," Cappie sighs, "What happened before she started having contractions?"

I debate telling her a lie, but I know she'll find out somehow anyway. Once food begins running out everywhere, she'll suffer too. It's better if she starts rationing her food and supplies now.

When I tell her the story, the color drains a bit from her face. When I get to the part about my alcohol, she looks even more stricken.

"Do you think you have enough?" She asks.

I nod, thinking of the many stashes I have in my home and several of the other Victor's homes. I've prepared for something like this. After I discovered what happens during withdrawal, I knew I had no other choice than to be prepared. If I'm going to die from alcohol, it's going to be from drinking too much, not from choking on my tongue during some kind of withdrawal seizure.

"Take care of yourself, Haymitch. She's needs you at 100 percent."

"I know."

Quite frankly, I'm surprised she's said this much to me. The past few times I've seen her, she hasn't said a word. She's usually disassociated from the happenings around her.

I wonder if the Peacekeeper had to shake her a few times to get her going.

Since I know that she could slide back into her catatonia within minutes, I allow her to do everything she needs to do without interruption. I hold one of Katniss' legs up so she can perform an examination. She confirms that Katniss was having contractions, but says everything looks fine at the moment.

We settle into the quiet of the house and sit with our eyes fixated on Katniss' still form.

"Is she happy here?" Cappie asks me quietly.

"I take care of her. We survive," I tell her, looking at my wife's face.

"But is she happy?"

I pause. How could she be happy? Her every move is dictated by the Capitol. She's afraid for our child. She's afraid for me, for her sister, for Peeta and Gale and her mother. And she's afraid for herself, though she'll never admit it. I don't understand how this woman could expect Katniss to be happy.

"As happy as anyone could be in Katniss' shoes," I reply, deciding it's vague enough to _not_ sound like treason to any Capitolites listening.

"Katniss has always been strong. She took care of everyone," the faraway look takes over and I feel like she's losing her grip on reality, "She'll be a much better mother than I ever was."

I'm not sure what to say to that. She's probably right.

I just nod. I'm not going to argue. It would be an insult to Katniss if I didn't agree with her mother's words.

Suddenly, I hear a moan from the bed and my neck snaps up to look. Katniss is awake.

She blinks a few times to orient herself before the realization of what happened hits her. Her eyes dart to mine and I try hard to smile at her. I scoot my chair closer and take her hand in mine.

"Glad to have you back, little mother. You had us worried."

"The baby is okay, right?" She croaks. She looks exhausted with worry. This can't be good for her,

"The baby is fine. I gave you a shot that stopped your labor. Your mother gave you an examination. Everything looks good…" I drift off, unsure what else to tell her.

"But?"

I give her hand a light squeeze and shake my head.

"But you are on bed rest indefinitely."

Katniss visibly deflates. Though it's been difficult for her to do much anyway, she's still had the freedom to leave the house and go into the district. Now she's being confined, not just to our home, but to her bed.

"It's just a few months, dear. It's for the baby," her mother says.

Katniss stiffens up and looks over at her mother, realizing that we aren't alone in the room.

"It's not just a few months. It's the rest of my life," she whispers, still staring at her mother. Cappie stands up and crosses over to sit beside Katniss on the bed. She places a hand on Katniss' cheek and pats it. To her credit, Katniss doesn't pull away from the gesture.

"Prim and I will come over often. She'll bring Buttercup."

Katniss actually laughs as that, which makes me appreciate her mother a bit more. I wonder if Katniss would like a pet of her own, an animal to give her comfort in the next few months. I make it a note to check around the district. Despite the food shortages that we will face, I'll still be able to order pet food. It comes in a different shipment than food for people.

Cappie excuses herself to use the restroom, and I'm finally left alone with my wife. I lean forward and grab her face, giving her a long, gentle kiss. She responds immediately and I feel her tears hit my cheeks. Soon, she's sobbing in my arms.

"I know, Sweetheart. I know."

"I should hate the baby. It's ruining my life," she blubbers between sobs, "but I don't. I just want it to be okay. I just want everything to be okay for once!"

"It will be. It'll be okay. I promise."

"You can't promise me that, Haymitch. You can't promise me that I won't lose the baby."

"You won't. As long as you take it easy and let me wait on you, hand and foot," I joke, nudging her with my elbow.

"What am I supposed to do for months in bed?" She asks, looking around the room in disgust.

"I can think of a few activities," I smile back with a wink.

Despite it all, we laugh together, heartily, until our bellies hurt.

!

(the beginning of May)

Two weeks after the incident, and two weeks into Katniss' bed rest, a supply train comes in from the Capitol. No food, of course, but a black-furred, flat nosed puppy and 6 months' worth of dry food for it is on board.

I leave our house early in the morning to meet the train, under the ruse of going to the bakery for bread. It's not entirely untrue. I've been trying to buy from town as much as I can, to keep our food stocked up and to keep money flowing in the district, so the merchants can buy goods from one another.

During my walk, I see how things are already going downhill. The Seam is loud with the sound of wailing children, hungry children who eat less than ever in an attempt to ration what they have. Suffering kids we can no longer help.

When the Capitol doctors came, the day Katniss almost went into labor, one of them informed me that all food in our home should be consumed by Katniss and I only, and unless Cappie and Prim were in visiting our home, the food was not for them either. It was a message from Snow, one that I was not going to ignore.

Her family has come over for meals quite a bit in the last few weeks, but there is nothing else we can. We have enough food here to last until after the games. But we are the only ones in the district who do.

The Merchants are already suffering as well. Supplies are rationed, there isn't enough coin being passed between merchants to keep everyone supplied with a balanced diet, and it's taking a toll on everyone. It's the whole district affected now, minus the Peacekeepers, and it's only been 2 weeks. The games will end in early August. More than half of the population of District 12 will be dead by then, if not most.

I try to ignore these thoughts. They just slow me down.

The sooner I get to the train station, the sooner I can get back to the house to give Katniss her new friend.

I'm not sure exactly how she's going to react to the dog. She hates her sister's cat, but cats are mean little things. A dog should be more loveable than a grumpy old stray. It'll keep her entertained. There's plenty to do on bed rest with a puppy.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

When I finally get to the station, I'm not alone. Peeta Mellark is at the platform, his arms crossed in wait. I hesitate before approaching him. It won't look as bad if _I _speak to him. In fact, it might be a good thing. If we can appear cordial, anyone who thinks he is sleeping with Katniss will look foolish.

"Hello, Peeta. It's nice to see you again," I smile, reaching my hand out to shake his.

"Haymitch, hi, how are you?" He asks and shakes my hand enthusiastically. I have to give the kid credit, he's smart and he catches on fast.

"I'm great, just great. We're both doing well," I tell him. I hope he doesn't mistake it for gloating. I'm sure he wants to know about Katniss. He deserves to know. He loves her too.

"I'm glad to hear that. Give Katniss my best," he says. I look around and see dozens of people staring at us. This is good. On a whim, I pull Peeta in for a hug, like I can imagine a father embracing his boy. It's the kind of hug I imagine I'll give my child in a few years.

Again, to his credit, he hugs back.

A camera flash actually goes off. There must be a reporter here, and they are trying to capture this moment.

I couldn't have planned it any better if I tried.

"What are you picking up today, boy?" I ask, knowing that he's not here for food supplies.

"Pig feed," he replies with a small smirk on his face, "chicken feed, cow feed… I'm glad my parents decided to buy some more livestock. It's been pretty convenient with this embargo."

The tone of his voice is confident, and things start to make sense to me. Peeta _knew _about the food problem before it happened, maybe even before I knew.

There's only one way that Peeta Mellark, of all people, would know insider information about trains and supply holds.

He's involved with rebels… the same rebels who've been feeding me information for the last 10 years.

It would make sense after he helped Delly escaped and got whipped. He'd be an important figure to the rebels. They need more influential people in the districts.

"A stroke of good luck, I suppose," I say, squinting in his direction.

The train finally pulls up and I turn my attention to it, not wanting to appear startled by my revelation about Peeta Mellark.

"I guess you could call it that," he says vaguely, "What are you here for anyway?"

"Surprise for Katniss. She's on bed rest and she's going crazy," I say quietly. I look over to Peeta. His eyebrows are hidden in his hairline. He's probably surprised that Katniss agreed to something like bed rest.

"What's the surprise?"

Before I can answer, Effie glides down the steps of the train toward me. Following her are two attendants carrying with them a medium-sized animal cage. A whimpering comes from inside the cage, and through the small holes, I can see bits of black fur. Effie twitters around, urging the attendants to walk faster. They set the cage down in front of me and nod before getting back on the train.

Effie stares expectantly at me, a huge grin on her lips as she looks between me and the cage. This must be because I let her pick out the dog. I should have known better than asking her. She acts like the smallest task is worthy of praise.

"Well, meet your new son!" Effie exclaims. I roll my eyes at her remark and hear Peeta chuckling behind me. I bend down to open the latch of the cage. When I do, the door swings open and out comes the strangest looking dog I've ever seen.

His eyes are far apart and bulging out of his head, making him look constantly surprised. He has short, floppy ears, a flat nose, chubby jowls and a curled tail. He's a weird-looking thing, to say the least. I shouldn't have expected anything less from Effie Trinket.

"He's a pug, the most popular brand of canine in the Capitol! Purebred, of course. Only the best for a victor and his wife!" she beams, looking at the puppy like it is a precious jewel.

The dog approaches me slowly, much calmer than I would expect from a puppy. He sniffs my hand, which I hold out for him, and gives it a tentative lick. Meanwhile, the train attendants unload the puppy food from the train, as well as Peeta's farm food.

"He's strange," I tell her, letting the creature lick off whatever could possibly be on my hand.

"He's adorable," Peeta coos from behind me in a baby voice. He kneels down next to me and the puppy goes right to him, licking him even more furiously than he licked me. I'm not sure why, but the sight makes me jealous. I want the puppy to hate Peeta.

No one can hate him, though. I learned that very quickly today.

They play for a few minutes and I load the dog back into his crate. Peeta helps me get the cage onto a cart, as well as the food, and I help him haul his feed into a wheelbarrow. We say our goodbyes to Effie, who leaves for District 4 to attend a party for the Odairs.

Peeta and I walk in comfortable silence for a while. I shake his hand firmly when we finally part ways at the edge of town. At least 2 dozen people watch. I hope that our cordiality did some good today. Maybe the media will spread some of the pictures around. If people speculate that Peeta and Katniss are sleeping together after seeing Peeta and I act like old friends, they are bigger idiots than I previously thought.

Then again, I didn't give the Capitol much credit in the first place. Maybe they are bigger idiots than I thought.

When I finally get home, I leave the dog food outside and take the dog out of the cage to meet Katniss.

I make my way up the stairs until I hear her talking. I stop in my tracks and listen.

She's not talking, but singing. I don't recognize the song, but it's gentle, like a lullaby. I continue up the stairs and stick my head in the door. She stops singing and smile at me, sadly. She's looking at the baby on the monitor.

The monitor baby is getting big, which means our baby is getting big too. The little boy moves around a lot, kicking and hitting his mother from inside. We don't look at it often, but when we see it kick, it's hard not to grin a bit.

The kid is giving them Hell already. It's a shame he'll grow up to be a mindless Capitolite.

When _our_ baby kicks, however, Katniss tenses up in fear. It reminds her that the baby isn't a fable. The kicks, as they get stronger, go from tiny nudges to hard, determined strikes. They still aren't that intense, really, but they are getting there.

"Hey Sweetheart, I brought you something," I say, holding the dog away from the door so she can't see.

"Liquor? Cigars?" she jokes, sets the monitor down on the end table and settles back on her pillow.

"Don't I wish? But no, it's something a bit more… energetic," I smile, before revealing the puppy to her.

Katniss blinks at the dog, expressionless, as I bring him closer to her. I set the little guy on her lap and wait for a reaction, any reaction. The puppy turns around to look at her. Katniss tilts her head in confusion at his bizarre features. Hilariously, the pup tilts his head at her too. That's when Katniss loses it.

"Oh my god, Haymitch. What kind of dog is this?" She asks between laughs. The puppy climbs up her belly and licks her face. There are tears on her face from laughing so hard.

I laugh with her, "It's a male. And Effie calls him a 'pug.'"

"Pug? His name is Pug?" She laughs even harder at this.

"No, that's his breed, Sweetheart. Effie says it's, "the most popular breed in the Capitol."'

"I'll call him Pug," she says, as the dog continues to lick her face, "that way I can laugh every time I call him."

She pets the dog and he ceases licking her to lean into her hand. Suddenly, he's on his back and Katniss is rubbing his belly, hard. His tongue hangs out of his mouth and his tails wags faster than I ever thought possible. He looks so stupid.

"I love him, Haymitch, thank you," Katniss says softly, staring at her new friend. She motions for me to sit on the bed with her as she pets Pug. It's a beautiful moment: my girl, all smiles and laughs with her creepy looking puppy. I sit next to her and she stops petting the dog.

"Haymitch," she says hesitantly, "how do you feel about me?"

"I think you know, Sweetheart," I say back, my voice betraying me with a slight croak.

"I just want to know. It's not a hard question," she presses.

It's now or never.

I brush a piece of hair behind her ear and lean my forehead against her own. Softly, I push my lips onto hers. She responds back and we kiss for a few moments, until Pug decides that he needs attention too. He comes up under my chin and gives it a little nibble. I part from Katniss and glare at the little pest.

Despite the interruption, I know it's the right time.

"I love you, Katniss," I say. Her chin is in my hands and her eyes stare into me.

They are words I haven't spoken for many years, since my mother and brother died.

I know she wanted to hear them, but I don't know what she'll say back to me.

"Does it scare you?" she asks.

Not what I was expecting.

"It does," I say, pulling her into a hug, "It scares the shit out of me. But my fear doesn't stop me from loving you."

"I know," she whispers, sounding smaller than I've ever heard her before, "you can't control how you feel, even though it's dangerous… I don't want to love you either."

"But you do?" I ask.

She rests her head on my chest and starts to cry.

"I do."

**Please review! I was so grateful for the feedback, follows, favorites and reviews from the previous chapter. I would love to get a few more for this one, since I updated quickly and wrote more.**

**Please and thank you, lovely readers. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank so much to everyone who gave feedback on the previous chapter! Reviews really motivate me to keep writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a doozy and there is a lot of action. I hope you wanted some action. : )**

**P.S In this story, the reaping takes place on July 8****th****. **

(June 1st, a month until the reaping, the announcement of the Quarter Quell)

There have been 8 starvation-related deaths in 12 in the last 2 months. Most of them were children.

One of them was Posy Hawthorn, and Katniss doesn't know.

She can't handle it.

She's weak and tired, depressed and fed up with pregnancy. Sometimes she cries all day long and I have to stay with her in bed, playing cards and different games from the Capitol, doing puzzles, talking, joking, kissing, playing with Pug, and trying to keep her mind off of everything.

The doctors guess that she will go past her due date in 8 weeks. The drug I injected her with seems to be working a bit too well. Luckily, it's not affecting the child's development, and it's weighing in at about 4 pounds.

The Capitol baby looks like he could survive now in the event of premature labor. Our child, from what we can see on the portable ultrasound machine, looks that way too. We only ever see outlines of its face and body, though, to keep the gender a surprise.

"Any Jacks, Sweetheart?"

Katniss surveys her hand before shaking her head, "Nope. Go fish."

I draw my card. The television pops on and the sudden noise startles us both. Our cards fly off of the bed and on to the floor. Within seconds, Pug is licking them and gathering a few into his mouth. He waddles out of the room to destroy them somewhere.

Usually Katniss would laugh at his antics, but her eyes are glued to the television.

Snow stands at a podium in the city center.

Why would there be mandatory viewing in early June?

And that's when I remember.

It's time to announce the theme of the Quarter Quell.

I get the shakes at the thought of another quell. Dammit, I really need a drink right now.

These games mark 25 years since I won my own. For me, that's 25 years of suffering, nightmares, flashbacks and sleeping with a weapon clutched in my hand.

Only a few of these things have changed, and only since Katniss has been in my life. I don't get to sleep with a knife anymore. I don't get to drink myself to sleep either. Many nights I don't even try to sleep. I just lay in bed with Katniss and hope that she can sleep without nightmares. I take short naps with her during the day. It's all I can do for myself. For both of us.

Even though I've been mentally preparing for this quell for years, it doesn't feel like enough time.

Katniss leans over the side of the bed and pulls out a bottle of white liquor. She grabs a glass from the bedside table drawer and pours me a generous amount. I've been drinking a lot less than what she pours now, to ration my supplies, but this occasion calls for a bit more.

Snow gives a formal speech, to remind us that the Quell is meant to punish the districts even more than the usual games. He doesn't use those words, exactly, but the meaning is the same. I block most of it out.

It isn't until he removes the card that I start paying close attention. Katniss' hand darts out and grips my onto own.

"As a reminder to the districts that all gifts given by the Capitol can be taken away, the tributes of the 75th Hunger Games will not have sponsors, mentors or opportunities for training. The games are set to begin as soon as all tributes arrive from their districts. Happy Quarter Quell, my friends."

He reaches his hands out to the many Capitol citizens in the stands. They scream in excitement as the President takes a bow. The clapping continues long after he exits the stage.

"No mentors," I say, breaking the silence. I think about my own quell and all of the advice my mentor gave me before the arena. I wouldn't have made it without her. The tributes won't be prepared at all.

They won't be my responsibility this year. When they die, I won't wonder if there was something I could have done. I feel relieved, in a twisted sort of way.

"Will you still have to go to the Capitol?" Katniss asks quietly. I'm not sure how to answer that. Before I even have a chance, the phone rings.

"Let me get that," I say, patting her cheek before running down the stairs. As soon as I put the receiver up to my ear, I receive instructions.

"Pretend you are talking to Johanna Mason," Plutarch Heavensbee instructs from the other end.

"Well, it's always a surprise to hear from _you_, Johanna."

"Mentors won't be coming to the Capitol for the Quell. We've got some big plans," he tells me quickly.

"I was surprised too. Do you think we'll be in the Capitol for the games?" I reply back, carrying on a pretend conversation with Johanna as I listen to Plutarch.

Plutarch tells me what I need to do at the start of the Quell. There's no opportunity to argue, since my replies have to be vague. He tells me the plans for 12, and I try to keep an impassive expression on my face. Things will get messy. People in the districts will die, not just the kids in the arena. He says there will be a signal in the games. He can't give details, but he said I will know what the signal is.

"I'm a bit worried about Katniss going into labor during mandatory viewing, she's due right around that time," I say, hoping Plutarch will understand.

"We'll get you and Katniss first. You're our top priority,"

"I hope you are right. There are going to be some serious problems if you aren't," I force myself to laugh.

"Keep her out of trouble until then," he says sternly.

"I'll try. Talk to you soon, Jo,"

When I hang up the phone, I lean back against the counter and rub my face hard. I need to look neutral. There's a chance someone is watching me right now.

When I get back upstairs, Katniss is falling asleep. Pug sits in her lap, chewing one of the playing cards we dropped earlier. I take it from him and hand him a toy instead. He nibbles my finger before taking the toy and settling it between his paws. I laugh, despite myself. Stupid dog.

"Who was on the phone?" Katniss mutters, sleepily.

"It was Johanna," I say indifferently.

"Hmm… should I be worried?" She jokes, despite the exhaustion on her face.

"Not a chance. You're stuck with me,"

A tiny smile graces her lips, "There are worst people I could be stuck with."

After everything is said and done, I hope she still feels that way.

!

(Reaping day, July 8th)

We make our way to the square well before the reaping is set to begin. The doctors have given Katniss permission to walk to the square and back, just this once. Even though she is far enough along now that the baby could come at any time, they want her to carry to the 40 week mark, which means the bed rest is still necessary. She hasn't left the house in months and her muscles are atrophied, so the walk is slow going at best.

Katniss now she waddles when she moves and her stomach is huge. I have to wonder how there is any more room in there for the child to grow.

She holds her back as she walks, willing her legs to move for just a bit longer. I wish I could pick her up and carry her to lessen her pain, but it wouldn't feel right on reaping day.

I need a drink. I can't though, because I have to be ready for Plutarch's big plans. Plus, I'm practically out of liquor, anyway.

The withdrawals have been rough at times. There have been days that I was to prideful to ask her to pour me a glass, didn't want to burden her with my alcoholism. It made me feel weak to need something so bad when she's so miserable. Other days, I couldn't handle it. The sweating and shaking and headaches became too much. Sweetheart never judged me for it. I only judged myself.

We've had good and bad days together. Katniss has a very profound sadness that I only see once in a while. But I know it's there. It's always there; her doubts and fears that she won't be a good mother, that she can't protect the kid. She practically hyperventilated when she looked at the Capitol monitor and the baby was gone. She screamed and cried that the monitor baby wasn't safe anymore.

I do my best to calm her down, but sometimes there's nothing I can do.

She can also be a bit of a bitch, especially now that she is so close to the end. She overheats a lot. Effie sent a few fans, but there's only so much to be done in the summer. When she's hot and angry, her claws come out, usually directed at me. As much as the Capitol doctors have explained about mood swings and what is normal behavior at this stage in a pregnancy, it's hard for me to match this Katniss with the one I met almost 9 months ago. She's a completely different woman.

I do all I can to let Katniss know that I care, but I'm not the sentimental type. She isn't either, but I guess being knocked up has changed that temporarily. We'll see what happens when the kid is out. Maybe she won't try to pick up on my emotions so much once she's not sitting in bed all day. It would be a lot less stressful for me.

"I wish I could hunt," she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, "I could feed all of the hungry people in town. I could just hunt all day and everyone could eat."

I nod at her ramblings while trying to shade my eyes from the bright sun.

"If only, sweetheart."

I look over at Katniss and notice that she is pale as a ghost from her time inside. Though she has been outside a few times since her bed rest began, it's only been out on the porch. She looks sick. I pull a sunhat from the bag I'm carrying and place it on her head to keep her from developing sunburn.

I hand her a pair of sunshades and put a pair over my own eyes. I've never been one to flaunt my wealth in the district by wearing nice clothes and accessories. Sure, I buy a lot of white liquor, but district 12 residents don't see me prancing around in fancy glasses and hats. Today is the exception to that rule. It's hot and bright out, I'm having withdrawals and Katniss kept me up all night with her tossing and turning. As soon as I fell asleep, Pug started whining to go outside. Needless to say, I don't care for the opinions of the townspeople today.

I need to be awake and alert for Plutarch's plans.

When we reach the square, I start walking up to the stage as Katniss makes her way over to her family.

"Oh, Katniss! Look at you and that baby bump!" Effie screeches from across the square. Faces of terrified kids turn to look at us. Effie's behavior has effectively turned us into bigger pariahs than we already were.

Effie, sporting a magenta wing and a matching dress, runs over and insists that Katniss be on stage with me as the names are called. It's the only duty I have this year as mentor, and Snow would like Katniss to be present.

Basically, he wants everyone to see how she's about to pop, how she's a harmless, pregnant cow.

If it's possible, whatever color may have been in her cheeks before has drained out. She's worried about being up there. Hell, I'm worried about her being up there. She doesn't want to be that close to the reapings. I don't want her to be that close to the stress. It's not a good idea, but I don't' tell Effie that. It's Snow's prerogative.

Once everything is settled, Effie gives her speech. By now, Katniss and I are sitting. She already stood too long and the blood pooled so heavily in her ankles that they grew to the size of her calves. If it weren't my least favorite day of the year, I'd have laughed at her.

I put my arm around her shoulder and squeeze, letting her know that I'm with her. I get a grateful smile in return.

"As always, ladies first," Effie says before walking over to the reaping ball with the female names in it. She reaches in and dramatically mixes the slips with her hand before pulling out a name.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she opens the slip and clears her throat. I swear I see her expression falter before she reads out, "Primrose Everdeen Hawthorn."

Katniss gasps next to me. Both of her hands fly to her mouth. She's shaking and struggling to breathe.

I'm trying to keep any expression off of my face.

And then it happens. A strong voice calls out, just as the Peacekeepers are pushing Prim to the stage.

"I volunteer as tribute."

When Katniss hears this, she loses it. Tears swim down her cheeks and her entire body seems to relax. She knows from watching other district's reapings that, once someone volunteers, there is no going back. The original tribute is spared.

The girl who volunteered for Prim is dark-skinned, Seam and angry looking. She is the first volunteer ever in this district, yet I can't figure out why.

It must be something to do with Plutarch's plan.

The girl walks up the steps and to the microphone, looking strong and determined. She doesn't show even a hint of fear. She's tall, very thin, but big boned. I'm not sure what will happen to her, because I'm not exactly sure what the rebels plan to do to the games, but she might have a chance to make it to the top 8. That's the most credit I'll give her, because no one from 12 ever makes it much further than that.

"What an exciting day! We have the very first volunteer from District 12! What is your name, dear?"

"Coraline Rivers," she says into the microphone.

To her credit, she almost sounds bored.

"How exciting! You didn't want Primrose to get all of the glory, did you, Miss Coraline?"

Coraline smirks and stares at Effie, "Something like that."

Effie looks a bit uncomfortable by Coraline's calm and sneaky demeanor. She moves onto the boys.

It's when she reads this name that I know the reaping was rigged by Snow. It was meant to punish Katniss.

"Rory Hawthorne."

Before anyone can react, another voice calls out from the 16 year old section, volunteering to take Rory's place.

Holy shit, two volunteers.

The boy walks up the stage and I can immediately identify him. Vick Hawthorne, the youngest Hawthorn boy. Rory is screaming at him, but his little brother doesn't even pay attention.

When everything is over, they are put immediately on a hovercraft. There are no opportunities for them to say goodbye, another "gift" from the Capitol that is being taken away during these games.

The hovercraft is taking them directly to the arena.

Katniss is inconsolable. I hold her to me closely, hoping I can absorb some of her pain. It doesn't work and I just try to get her off the stage as quickly as possible. When she sees Prim, she waddle-runs to her as fast as she can.

"You were reaped, you were reaped," Katniss cries, holding her sister as tightly as she can, "both of you were reaped."

She pulls Rory into her arms as well and they all hold each other.

"It was a warning, he's warning me, he's warning me that he'll take away everyone I love," She rambles. I know it's time to get her away from the square. There are too many peacekeepers around and I don't need them overhearing Katniss' treasonous words.

"C'mon sweetheart, we need to get you home. The games start in 3 hours," I say, urging Prim and Rory to follow us. I don't think Katniss could handle being separated from them. Once we get far enough from the square, I let her sit down and cry. Katniss has the biggest meltdown I've ever seen.

Once she's sitting against a tree, she sobs into her sister's neck, her entire body shaking and convulsing. Her breathing is sporadic and I know there's nothing I can do to help. Rory sits on the other side of her, crying himself at the loss of his brother, but trying to be strong for Prim and Katniss.

"Rory, Rory, it's my f-fault. It's my fault. Vick… It's my f-fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she cries, hugging Rory to her tightly.

"No, Katniss. It's not your fault. Vick…" Rory's voice chokes as he tries to form words, "I don't know what he was thinking, Katniss. But it's not your fault. Vick knows how to hunt now. He's a lot stronger than me. Maybe he thought he had a better chance of coming home."

"I can't believe you were reaped," she says, her voice shaking horribly. She starts to rub her stomach and mumble to herself.

I kneel down in front of her, without a word, and grab her face in my hands. I kiss her once on the forehead and wrap my arms around her, feeling our kid in-between us, kicking away. Katniss' emotions must be affecting the child because it's moving more than I've ever felt before.

"It's punishment, from Snow, for saving Peeta," she whispers, her words drenched in fear, "it's a warning Haymitch. He'll reap the baby. The baby is going to get reaped. I can't let it happen. I can't let the baby get reaped. I can't. We have to do something. We have to leave," Katniss starts to stand but I hold her down, rubbing her back softly.

I pull her as tightly as I can to me, despite the roundness between us, and hold her close to me, whispering quietly in her ear, "Katniss, you have to calm down. We've got 11 years to figure that out, okay? We'll leave when we have to leave. Our kid won't get reaped. I _won't _let it happen."

"He reaped Prim."

"I know he did, damn son-of-a-bitch. He'll pay for it Katniss. But we can't think of those things right now. We just need to get you home," I tell her, hoping to urge her along. She needs to be safe in the Victor's village before the games start, "I'll have to be in town for the first few hours of the games. It is part of my mentoring duties," I lie.

I have to be there to do what I've been instructed by the rebels.

I hold her as close as I can and feel her stomach tightening and moving against my own. The baby is really agitated.

"Stay off of your feet. You've had enough excitement today, sweetheart," I say, patting her belly for a second before pulling away from her.

"Stay with me?" She asks Prim. Her sister nods sadly and wraps her arm around Katniss. I give my wife a kiss, an 'I love you' and a promise to see her in a few hours. I watch her waddle away and sincerely hope my promise is not broken.

!

(Katniss POV)

By the time I get back to the village, I'm feeling worse than I've ever felt. My practice contractions are strong, my head hurts, I'm sweating buckets and I can't stop shaking from what happened at the reaping.

"Are you okay?" Prim asks me as I waddle through the front door.

"I'm just shaken up, little duck. I thought I was going to lose you," I say, reaching out to hold her hand to help me up the stairs.

"I was scared too. Why do you think that girl volunteered for me?" She asks quietly. Prim is well-aware of the cameras in my home.

I start to open my mouth in reply when the pain hits me. It's nothing like the small discomforts I've experienced before. I sit down at the top of the stairs and lean against the wall, trying to be subtle about my laboring. I need to get out of this house. Prim kneels beside me and asks if I'm okay. I lie and say I'm just tired.

"Rory, there are a few bags under the bed in my room. Please grab them calmly and meet me near the front door," I say as quietly as I can. To his credit, he simply nods and disappears into my room to grab them.

"What's in these?" Prim asks.

"Overnight bags I packed a few weeks ago, in case Haymitch had to leave for the games. I didn't want to be all alone," I lie. I hope my lie is believable enough.

I'm not going to have this baby with Capitol doctors around to snatch it. I won't let them kill my son or daughter before it even has a chance. Who knows what kind of evil plan Snow has in store for my child?

The bags are filled with medical supplies that the doctors left, just in case something happen. I've been discretely grabbing pieces of equipment from the supply pile for weeks on my way back from the bathroom and slipping them into the bags under my bed. Haymitch has been doing it as well. We had 4 bags under there, two that were actually filled with clothes and 2 filled with supplies. We left one of each under our bed and moved the other two to the guest bedroom, in case we had to lock ourselves in there for any reason. There are no windows in the guest bedroom and it locks in 4 different ways from the inside.

It's something Haymitch and I discussed a few months ago, before the food shipments stopped coming. I just can't believe I have to take one of the plans into action.

I'm not the best at acting, but I know I have to try to keep myself from looking like I'm in pain. I keep my hands at my sides and slowly walk down the stairs. I even stop for a minute to lace up my boots. Pug comes to my feet and I grab him, handing him over to Prim as we exit the house. He's small enough to be carried for a while.

Rory carries the bags, one on each shoulder. They are filled to the brim with supplies, but they aren't too heavy or bulging, so I don't feel bad about not taking one. I'm too focused on my pain to pay attention to anything else.

When we make it past the gate leading out of Victors Village, I have another contraction. I grab onto a tree and try to breathe through it. It's excruciating pain, in my back, middle, lower regions. That pain coupled with heavy, sore breasts and aching feet makes me desperate to sit down. There's no time, I remind myself, determined to get to my mother's house as soon as possible.

"You're in labor, aren't you?" Prim murmurs glumly.

I nod once and put a hand up to her lips to stop her from speaking. I don't believe there are cameras here, but I can't be sure. We take a short cut through a meadow to avoid going through town. The walk takes forever as I have to stop occasionally. Sometimes I pretend it's because my feet hurt. Other times, I pretend to stretch out my back. Rory and Prim go along with whatever I say. They know what I'm trying to do.

The closer we get to the Seam, the worst the pain seems to get. I want to badly to be lying down right now.

"I want Haymitch," I whine quietly. I know he can't be with me because he's stuck in the square for the games. If he were to leave, they would know that I was having the baby. Snow would send his vultures here to take it, to kill it or steal it.

"Rory will go into town once the games have started. He'll get Haymitch. It'll take a few more hours at least," Prim reassures me while scratching Pug behind his ears. I know she's probably right. Labor takes a long time. Once Haymitch is done being interviewed about the games, Rory will fetch him and everything will be fine.

When we get inside, my mother is arranging her birthing table and supplies.

"How did you know?" Prim asks, confusedly.

"Call it a mother's intuition," mother says, smiling at me from across the room.

I have to give her credit. She's been extremely present in my life in the past few months. Despite the few pounds she's lost from the food shortages, she looks healthier and more alive than ever before. Her mind is healthier as well.

Mother and Rory help lift me up onto the table. The television is on in front of me and I strain to hear it. The games are starting in the next 10 minutes.

Rory stiffens up and stares at the TV. I don't know how he is coping with the loss of Vick and the lack of time to comprehend the games. They don't get to prepare this time. Not just the tributes; everyone in the districts as well.

10 more minutes until the 3rd Quarter Quell begins. I'll possibly be laboring as Vick Hawthorne dies. It's an unsettling thought.

"Rory, please go find Haymitch? Please? Let him know what's going on. Be very quiet," I instruct, gripping onto the table as another contraction takes me. Hopefully it will keep his mind off of the games.

He nods and leaves quickly.

!

(Haymitch POV)

We're 2 minutes from the start of the games when I see Rory Hawthorne running through the crowd. People aren't supposed travel in the minutes before the games, and it's all I can do to hope the kid won't get shot. Suddenly, he slows way down. He's looking around and I just know that he's trying to find me.

I walk away from the stage and greet him. One look at his face and I know that Katniss is in labor. He opens his mouth to tell me something and I shake my head at him, pushing him slightly away. Sweetheart is probably locked up in the guest bedroom with her sister. It's too dangerous to discuss right here. Rory looks distressed but I tell him to leave and go back to standing by the stage. On the outside, I'm completely calm. On the inside, I know that this is a very bad time for Katniss to go into labor. I hope Plutarch keeps his word to me.

Suddenly, the arena is visible on the screen. The tributes are coming up the tubes. All of them look determined.

I've been watching the reaping's from the square, and there were a lot of volunteers this year. Triple the usual amount. As Caesar and Claudius analyze it, they attribute it to the fact that there was no training. They claim the best in each district want their opportunity for fame and riches without having to be coached. They would surely be the most deserving victor.

I'm sure that is something else entirely.

Once the 60 seconds begin, all of the tributes straighten up. When the countdown is at 30, they all look up at the sky.

"Defeat the Capitol, end the tyranny!" Every tribute screams, before jumping off of their platforms. The explosions rock the cameras in the arena and there is nothing seen but smoke and the blood of 24 suicidal tributes with a good cause.

This was Plutarch's signal.

Suddenly, the square is thrown into chaos. Men are tackling and stabbing Peacekeepers. All around me, they are being massacred by angry people, Merchant and Seam alike. Several Peacekeepers take off their masks and I recognize them as miners. They take out guns and begin aiming them at any Peacekeepers who remain.

Plutarch instructed me to find Mellark and Gale Hawthorn near the meadow. The Seam and Merchant quarters are being evacuated by the two men. I look behind me and people in from the square are running there with me, looking absolutely terrified.

Plutarch was right; people would follow me because they trust my ability to survive. Even though most of them think of me as a drunk, they know that I survived the games for a reason. They trust me now to get them to safety.

When I reach the meadow, people are arriving in droves. Many people joined our group on the way here, and others are going back to get loved ones. There are no peacekeepers in sight. I hope to God the hovercrafts get here soon to pick up everyone and get Katniss somewhere safe.

Peeta and Gale are yelling out instructions, trying to get everyone to calm down. It's absolutely chaos. People are gripping onto me, asking me what they should do.

"Calm down, everyone," I yell. Some of the noise quiets. Between the three of us, we finally get the attention of the group. It's impossible to tell how many people are here. I wonder how much of the district is lying dead from peacekeeper brutality and how many of them have starved in the last three months.

"We need to stay calm," Peeta commands, "Hovercrafts are coming to save us. We are going to District 13. I know what you are all thinking, but you need to trust us. We've been working with a group of people who are trying to end the injustices that we face from the Capitol every day. At District 13, we will receive 3 meals a day and will be safe from any retaliation from the Capitol that may happen in 12. If you choose to stay here, don't think that the Capitol will let you live peacefully."

Just as he says that, a hovercraft appears out of nowhere. It's got the rebel symbol on it, a picture of a mockingjay. When it lands, people start to scramble away from it.

They are signing their own fate, I suppose. There isn't enough time to force them onboard.

As I board the hovercraft, I look around for Katniss. She was picked up in the village first.

I wonder how they were able to convince her. Plutarch probably had her dragged, kicking and screaming the whole way. I wouldn't expect any less from her.

I see Plutarch in the back, watching people file into the craft. I guess he found a way to escape the gamemaker room before the games even began. I'll have to ask him how he pulled it off.

"Is there someone tending to Katniss? She's in labor," I ask over the sound of frantic citizens.

Plutarch clears his throat and fidgets a bit on his feet.

"She wasn't in the village. We came right here to get the survivors,"

"You left without her?" I scream, pushing Plutarch against the wall and putting my arm over his throat, "You had _one _job, Plutarch. Shit, I have to find her,"

I move away from him and leave the hovercraft. Peeta runs after me.

"What are you doing? We're leaving in a few minutes, get back on the hovercraft!"

"Bastards didn't get Katniss. She's probably at her mother's house," I explain to him. A look of understanding crosses his features. He won't leave her here either.

As we run away from the hovercraft, I see a white suit in front of us, a little too late. Before I can react, the peacekeeper pulls out his gun and shoots. He seems injured and only manages to get my legs.

Son-of-a-fucking-bitch, this hurts. I fall to the ground in utter agony. I can't even feel my left leg anymore. It's completely destroyed from the close range shots.

I've failed. Dammit, I got shot and I failed my wife.

Peeta pulls out a gun and shoots the Peacekeeper several times in the head.

"Go get her, Peeta. Get Katniss," I say weakly. I'll die here. I know my leg is losing a lot of blood.

Peeta picks me up from under my armpits and drags me back to the hovercraft. I can't feel the pain in my legs anymore. It's how I know I'm going to die. The pain is gone. My eyes are drooping. Someone grabs me and pulls me into the craft. Before I black out, I hear him say, "I'll get her, Haymitch. I'll get her."

!

(Katniss POV)

The games are about to begin. The contractions have stopped for a few minutes and I'm relishing in the opportunity to catch my breath. Mother just completed another examination. She says I'm 3 centimeters dilated.

It's going to be a long night.

Prim is looking through the duffle bags and evaluating the supplies we stole from the Capitol doctors. She says there is a lot of good equipment in there that will help during delivery. I hope she's right.

Suddenly, the games are on. The kids are rising on their platforms. Once the 60 seconds begin, I know something is off. None of them are looking around the arena or evaluating the supplies at the cornucopia. They all look up at the sky.

Then, all Hell breaks loose. They collectively declare war against the Capitol and jump off of their platforms.

This is what Peeta was talking about in that letter. Big things are happening. People are rebelling.

We _have_ to leave. It's not going to be safe for us in the districts after that stunt.

"We have to go," I say, forcing myself off of the table, grabbing my pants and putting them on. Mother and Prim don't even try to stop me. They are in as much shock as I am.

I waddle over to the table and grab everything off of it that I might need. I shove things back into the duffle bags. I grab jugs of water and push them into my mother's arms. Prim puts one duffle on her arm, mother grabs the other, and I take an old game bag from the closet and shove Pug inside. I don't worry about food. Each of the bags has a small stockpile.

I came prepared, just not for this exact situation.

"Prim, put on your shoes," I tell her.

I don't know if the baby knows that it's not the time to act up or if I'm just in shock, but I can't feel the contractions at all now.

We don't waste any time. As soon as everything is gathered, we leave out the back door. It takes about 10 minutes of sporadic jogging and walking, since I can't really run anymore, but we finally make it to the weak spot in the fence. I throw a rock at it and my relief is palpable when I realize the fence is off.

"Prim, go first," I push her, letting her climb under. I go next, held steady by mom on one side and Prim on the other. When I make it through, I hear his voice.

"Wait, stop, Katniss!"

It's Peeta.

"There's a hovercraft," he says between pants, "to District 13. It's safe. We need to get to the hovercraft."

Just as he says this, I see the hovercraft he was talking about rise up over by the meadow and fly away from the district and away from us. The four of us watch it fly away. Peeta's face drains completely of color.

I urge them to hurry. Mother climbs through the fence and Peeta follows.

"We need to run. The Capitol is going to come with a vengeance," Peeta says to us, "I have an idea of somewhere we can go. It's a few miles away. Can you make it, Katniss?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" I say as another contraction takes over my body.

This child is going to get us all killed.

Peeta looks at me in concern as I stumble forward in pain.

"You're in labor, aren't you?" He says seriously, "Here, let me carry you."

"You can't carry me for miles, Peeta."

"Katniss," He says, grabbing my face in his hands, "we need to get out of here. Now. Just let me carry you and stop being so stubborn."

I nod in defear and he lifts me up easily, even with the baby weight I've put on.

"Be careful with her, Peeta. Too much movement is just going to make labor faster," my mother tells him. He nods and holds me close to him as they run through the forest. We stop for a moment and my mother grabs my bow from the trunk where I left it all of those months ago. She slings it over her back.

With all of the supplies everyone is holding, I worry that they are going to collapse in exhaustion before we can get anywhere.

I'm holding my bag in my arms and I can feel Pug jostling around inside, wanting to get out. He's whimpering and barking.

I get more uncomfortable with every step Peeta takes. I can tell my mother and Prim are getting tired, but there's no way we can stop. Sweat drips down Peeta's face. I'm exhausting him.

"I'm sorry," I tell him through tears, "You can put me down."

"No way," he smiles charmingly at me, "you're light as a feather."

It's getting dark out, but our group keeps moving. My contractions are unbearable. I try not to cry out in the darkness. I don't want to alert anyone of our location. After about an hour of nonstop moving, Peeta stops.

"It's here," he says, staring at a tree. Something has been drawn on the tree in tar.

Peeta sets me down and starts to stomp around the area. I'm not sure what he's looking for, but I don't have the energy to help.

Suddenly, we hear a loud, echo. Like the ground under Peeta's foot is hollow. He exclaims happily and drops to his knees. He starts running his hands along the ground before he finds a tiny handle. He pushes and grunts for a few moments until a door pops up.

Oh my god, it's a bunker in the woods. I wonder if my father knew this was here.

Prim and my mother climb down the rickety stairs quickly at Peeta's insistence.

"Can you walk down the steps?" Peeta asks me, holding out a hand for me. I take it and struggle to get off the ground. We make our way over to the entrance and I walk slowly down the steps, Peeta's hands stay firmly on my back, guiding me slowly. He shuts the door behind us.

"It's so dark. Do you think there are any candles in here?" Prim asks.

"I have a flashlight, in your bag, Prim," I tell her. She pulls it out and turns it on. It illuminates the entire room.

There is a collective gasp among us. It's not an empty bunker. There's a cot in the corner, a small counter, a little stock pile of canned goods and even a small sink in the corner. There's enough room for all of us to stretch out.

"There's a first aid kit over there," Prim exclaims, running over and grabbing the box, "We might need this."

"I have to lie down," I groan. Peeta leads me over to the cot and I settle on it. Another contraction. Assuming the bunker is soundproof, I allow myself to cry out.

"I'm going to take off your pants, Katniss. We need to see how far you are," mother says.

I allow her to do her examination. I wish Haymitch were here.

"I want Haymitch," I cry, sounding like a child, "why didn't he come back for us?"

Peeta stands next to me, looking uncomfortable. He wants to comfort me, I know, but it's not his place. Peeta_ knows_ it's not his place.

"He tried Katniss," Peeta kneels down and takes my hand in his own, "he got hurt and had to go back to the hovercraft."

"Is he okay?" I cry out, while Haymitch's child wreaks havoc inside of me. My husband's absence is all too profound in this moment.

"He'll be okay, Katniss. Just focus on the baby. They'll find us soon," Peeta coos. His presence is comforting, but it's just not enough.

"Not quite there yet. It's going to be a long night," mother says.

Hours full of contractions pass. They increase in frequency, and soon, there doesn't seem to be a break between them. Nobody in the bunker tries to sleep. My agony is too loud to ignore.

Peeta sits next to the cot, trying to distract me by reminiscing about the many things we did when we were younger, when everything was easier. I'm grateful that he doesn't bring up anything romantic.

It must be hard for him to see me like this, to see me hours from giving birth to another man's child.

He's a good man though. He doesn't falter a bit.

Finally, after what seems like a lifetime later, my mother tells me I can push.

I'm dripping sweat and in more pain than I thought one person could live through, but I push with all of my might. I try to remember to breathe but there are several times my mother and Prim have to remind me.

More than anything, though the pushing and screaming and trying to breathe, I wish Haymitch was by my side.

Peeta pulls back one of my legs and Prim holds the other. I squeeze Peeta's free hand so I don't break Prim's. His hand doesn't feel like Haymitch's. He doesn't look like Haymitch. He's not the person I want here. I want to scream that at him, but I don't. Peeta is too good to yell at.

I wish Haymitch was here so I could scream at him for not being here.

The pain I experience is not what I imagined it would be. I'm being ripped apart from the inside out. I knew it would be awful, but I never expected to be reduced to a screaming, blubbering mess. Everything around me is blurry. At one point, I vomit into a bowl that Prim holds up to my chest.

"The head is out! Just a few more," Mother says in a professional tone.

"I can't do it. I can't," I scream as the next contraction hits.

"You can, Katniss. You're almost there. In a few minutes, you're going to meet your child. It's going to be wonderful. You just need to push a few more times," Peeta whispers to me. I look over at him and stare into his eyes. There is so much love, kindness and support in those eyes. But there is also pain. It breaks my heart to see Peeta in so much pain.

I don't have any more time to think about his pain when I'm feeling the intense need to push again. I squeeze his hand and bear down as hard as I possibly can.

It's then that I hear the cry. It's a shrill, angry cry.

"It's a girl," my mother says, tearfully. Prim sets a white cloth on my chest and mother sets the baby on it.

My daughter_._ I have a _daughter._

The baby continues to cry and I bring my hands up to touch her. She's so small and soft, dirty and angry and red. Prim takes several wet clothes and cleans her up while I hold her in my arms. I let Prim cut the umbilical cord.

She's got a bit of hair on her head. It's blonde, matching everyone else in the room. It's just like her father.

Her cheeks are chubby and round. I resist my urge to pinch one between my fingers.

She has a slightly slanted nose. It's not as severe as Haymitch's, but it's definitely something she got from him.

She looks like the perfect mix between the two of us. I'm breathless as I look at this little girl, this little mistake that I already love so much.

I don't know what's going to happen in our lives from here on out, especially with a rebellion happening, but I know that it'll be worth every moment that I get to have this little girl as my daughter.

"She's perfect," Peeta breathes out. I smile at him.

All four of us are crying. For a few minutes, we just take in the sight of her. Mother wraps her up in a blanket and hands her back. I cradle her to my chest. The love I feel inside of me is stronger than anything I've felt before. Even for Prim.

We pass her around for a long time between my mother, Prim and me. I offered her to Peeta, but he told me that Haymitch should be the first man to hold her. The gesture was so kind, and so _Peeta, _that I couldn't bear to look at him for a few minutes. I would break into hysterics if I did.

Eventually, I learn to feed her. It's painful, but something that is feels special between us. It's bonding. Mother says it will get easier, but I don't even care if it does. I'll feed her as often as she wants. She's going to be chubby, just like Haymitch wanted.

After a while, I'm too exhausted to keep my eyes open. Prim fashions a little nest for the baby and sets her down to sleep. It's the closest to a crib we're going to get in here. I nibble on some crackers and drink a bit of water before collapsing into the cot for sleep.

The last thing in my head before drifting off is the image of Haymitch cradling our little girl in his arms for the first time.

!

(Haymitch POV)

When I wake up, I'm in a hospital room. There are wires hooked up to me, well, everywhere. And there is nobody around. Convenient.

I spend a few minutes waking up completely before I take the solitude as an opportunity. I rip all of the wires out of my face and arms.

A machine next to me starts to beep. Within seconds, a nurse comes in.

"Mr. Abernathy, you need to keep-"

"Where is Katniss?" I ask her in a froggy voice.

When I try to get out of the bed, I realize something is wrong.

"Mr. Abernathy, stop-"

"What the fuck?" I yell, ripping the sheet off of me.

My left leg is gone.

My leg is fucking gone. The right one is wrapped up, but I can still feel it. I can move it a bit. My left is gone below the knee.

"You're fucking kidding me," I shout. I'm not even sure how to react to this. I'm just pissed.

I see a few items on the table next to my bedside, something to take my rage out on. I quickly sweep all of them onto the ground and relish in the sound of things shattering all over the ground. The nurse ducks out of the room. Several minutes later, Plutarch walks in with several men. One of them is Gale Hawthorne.

"Haymitch, glad to see you're awake," Plutarch grins. I flip him the middle finger and reach for a glass from the other table. Before he can react, I've thrown it and it hits him in the face.

Instant blackeye. One point for Haymitch.

"Where the fuck is my wife?" I ask him, bracing to throw something else.

"She's not here," Gale says, shooting a glare over to Plutarch.

"Go find Katniss, or the second I get out of this bed, I'm going to kill you," I tell him. Rage is building up inside of me. I'm going to lose my damn mind if I don't get to see her soon. The combination of not knowing where she is and not having one of my limbs is really pissing me off.

"She's not in 13, Haymitch. We couldn't find her," Plutarch tells me softly, holding his injured eye.

And then I remember. The boy went to get her. He has to have her. He wouldn't let her get hurt.

"Peeta Mellark isn't here either, is he?" I ask.

"No, he isn't. None of the Everdeens are here either," Gale replies.

"They have to be in 12. Katniss probably took them into the woods. Go find her," I tell them, feeling sick at the thought of a very pregnant Katniss stuck somewhere in the woods.

"Rory said Katniss was in labor. Do you think she would go into the woods in labor?" Plutarch questions.

"Of course she would. It's either that or they're hiding in 12," I snap back at him.

It's his fault we are in this situation. If he's just found her, I'd have both of my legs and I'd be with my wife.

"I hope not," Gale murmurs back, "the Capitol dropped firebombs on 12 shortly after we left. Twelve is completely demolished."

_Son-of-a-bitch._

"Get me a damned wheelchair, get me out of this fucking bed and down to wherever Coin is," I yell at the men.

To Gale's credit, he grabs a wheelchair and sets it next to my bed. I use my upper arms to drag myself into it. My right leg screams by the time I get there, but I refuse help from the two of them,

"Anyone know how a guy can get a fake leg around here?" I ask, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I don't have much of a left leg anymore.

"Beetee's working on it now," Plutarch gushes at me. He literally gushes.

God, I hate this man.

I have so many reasons to hate him now. Mainly because he didn't go back for Katniss.

Where the Hell could she be?

!

When I get down to the president's command quarters, I'm furious. The more I think about it, the angrier I get.

I was apparently knocked out for two days after the amputation. In those two days, they didn't get Katniss. The thought of her being out there is driving me insane.

"Mr. Abernathy, we're glad to see you out of bed. We have a lot to go over and a lot of activities planned for you in the next few weeks," Coin says.

I scoff at her comment and wheel myself right up to her. She doesn't move to shake my hand or anything.

Maybe she can tell that my wheelchair is the only thing keeping me from strangling her.

"Until you find my wife, I'm not going to aid in your efforts," I say simply before turning around and leaving the room. I ignore the demands to turn around that are yelled at the back of my head.

Within hours, Coin comes to my hospital room to inform me that there was activity recorded in one of 13's bunkers outside of District 12. She's hopeful that it's Katniss' party inside and is sending a hovercraft to investigate within 24 hours.

I hope for her sake that it's Katniss.

I will tear District 13 to pieces if they don't find my wife.

**Okay, 8700 word chapter! Please please cheese please review and enjoy! And happy thanksgiving, you wonderful people. 3**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Thanks a bunch to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed in response to last chapter. This one is going to be a bit shorter, and mainly focus on the grand reunion of everybody's favorite couple (psst… I'm talking about Katniss and Haymitch).**_

_**Please enjoy and review if you are so inclined. : )**_

(Katniss POV)

We spend two days in the bunker before help arrives. Those two days are practically sleepless as I adjust to being a mother.

It's hard to tell day from night down here, but I'm awake most of the time.

I learn so many little things about this child in those two days; how she likes to eat, how she likes to sleep, that her eyes are a dark blue color that my mother says will soon fade into Seam grey, that she likes it when I sing cradlesongs and she favors my arms over my mother and Prim's.

Sometimes Peeta sits with me to keep me company while the baby fusses. He usually plays with Pug as I tend to the baby.

It is during one of those times, when mother and Prim sleep and the baby nurses in my arms, that I finally get to hear about the events leading up to Peeta's whipping.

"She was so miserable, Katniss. We both were, but it was different for Delly. She knew she could be with him if she could just get out of the district. I couldn't deny her that happiness. It's not like I loved her… I didn't want her to be stuck with me for the rest of her life. I didn't want that kind of life and I didn't think it really mattered anymore. I assumed I would die for it… I probably _would_ have died if you hadn't jumped in front of Thread." Peeta whispers to me as he scratches lightly behind the dog's ear.

"It was nothing," I brush him off.

"It wasn't nothing, Katniss. It was brave. When you did that, you gave people courage to fight the Capitol,"

"Yes, and that's why they stopped letting food into 12. It's why Prim and Rory were reaped. It wasn't a good thing, it was reckless," I tell him, "I just… I just couldn't watch you die,"

"You could have died too. Your baby could have died. Didn't you think of that?" He says.

"I don't think things through like you do," I tell him, "You're a better person than me. I'm sorry you didn't find your perfect match. I wanted you to be happy."

"You're a good person, Katniss, even if you can't see it," He reaches over and squeezes my hand, "And at least one of us found our match. That's one thing the Capitol did right."

I don't know what to say to him. When we said goodbye before the marriage reaping, I never expected that I would love my spouse in the way Peeta loves me. It's uncomfortable to talk about Haymitch with him, but I feel like I owe him. He came back for me when Haymitch couldn't.

"That was just dumb luck. I didn't think I would start to like him," I say in reply, my cheeks reddening in embarrassment. I know Peeta isn't scrutinizing me, but I'm still uncomfortable.

"You don't just _like_ him. You don't have to hold back for my benefit, Katniss," Peeta retorts, sounding a bit irritated.

"I don't know what to say, Peeta. I don't usually discuss my feelings," I mutter back.

I don't know what he wants to hear from me. Does he want to hear that I love Haymitch? That Haymitch is always there for me? That he makes my life not just bearable, but wonderful in many of ways? I don't know what he's trying to do.

"I want to know that you're happy…"

"I'm as happy as anyone can be under the Capitol's rule, but-" I reply.

"Okay, but if this rebellion is successful, will you stay with him?" Peeta interrupts, "The marriage reapings will be void. You'll be able to leave him, if you want to."

It doesn't take me long to answer.

"I will choose to stay," I look down at my daughter and warmth spreads all over me, not just for her, but for the man who gave her to me, "I _want_ to stay with him."

"I understand. Thank you for being honest," Peeta says, flashing me a half-hearted smile before turning over on the ground to fall asleep.

I stay up all night, thinking about my life now, my daughter, the rebellion happening in the districts, wondering what Haymitch is doing, if he's looking for me, if he's healthy, if he's having withdrawals, if he knows in his heart that his child is born.

Soon, I get my answer.

The door to the bunker flies open on the third day. Sunlight floods our eyes and I thrust the baby into Prim's arms before grabbing my bow from next to the bed. I aim an arrow directly at the intruder from my place on the cot.

"Whoa, Catnip. Take it easy."

I immediately recognize the nickname and the voice as Gale.

He holds his hands up in surrender, laughing a bit as he backs away. He knows I'm more scheming than to just shoot an intruder. He's damn lucky too. I'm not taking any chances with my child in here.

"Gale." I breathe out, trying to get out of bed to greet him. I'm instantly dizzy and in immense pain at the movement. Instead, he walks over to me and wraps my up in a warm embrace.

"Looks like that baby couldn't wait, huh?"

I laugh and hug him tighter, "Nope, she was determined to come out."

"She's bull-headed then, like her parents," he smiles and pulls away from the hug.

I hear a shriek next to me. Prim sets the baby in my arms and I look up to see Rory standing at the bottom of the bunker stairs. He looks tired but thrilled to see her. They reunite tearfully.

"We need to get going. Can you walk?" Gale asks me. I can, though it's incredibly painful. I hand the baby off to my mother as I gather things from around the bunker. It's a struggle even to bend over.

Peeta helps me pick up the essential baby items that have accumulated under and around the cot. I look at the blood-stained bed and feel guilty for a moment. Not only did I hog the only cot for several days, leaving everyone else to sleep on the ground, but I ruined the sheets for any other runaways who may take shelter here.

Even though I'm thrilled to get out of here, it's almost bittersweet to leave. My daughter was _born_ in this dark bunker. It's safe here. I feel like I can protect her here. There's no choice but to move forward. I can't raise her by myself underground.

When everything is gathered, we head up the stairs into the sunlight. Getting up the steps is rough. Rory half-carries me while I cradle the baby in my arms and try not to jostle her around too much.

It's incredibly hot and bright when we emerge. I'm guessing it's about midday, given the position of the sun in the sky. The baby starts crying loudly at the brightness. I cringe at the noise and walk even faster to our destination, putting my hand over her eyes to shade them. A hovercraft is parked in a clearing a few yards from the bunker and we all hurry to board, eager to escape before anyone may see us.

Prim and Rory refuse to let go of each other' hands the entire trip.

I can't say I blame them. If Haymitch were here with my now, I don't think I'd be able to let him go. I just clutch the baby tighter to me as a pang of loneliness hits. Even with some of my favorite people near me, I feel alone. I was so used to having only Haymitch by my side for months. It's an adjustment to be away from him.

When we settle into the hovercraft, I breathe easily for the first time in days. I may not know the people flying it, but I know Gale and Rory would never put us in harm's way. We are safe for the time being. My daughter, my sister, my mother, Peeta… We all made it.

Gale sits, next to me on the way home, staring at the baby.

"Holy shit, Catnip, she's beautiful," Gale coos, looking at my daughter in my arms like she's the most precious thing on earth, "Hi, baby… I'm your Uncle Gale."

I chuckle at his baby voice and debate asking him if he would like to hold her. I decide against it, wanting Haymitch to be the first man to hold his daughter, just like Peeta said. Gale doesn't say anything about it, which I'm grateful for.

"Is Haymitch alright?" I ask him quietly. The question makes me sick… I'm almost afraid to know.

Gale smirks and nods his head, "Yeah, he's fine. He raised Hell when he realized you weren't in 13. Promised not to cooperate with officials until you were found."

"Sounds like Haymitch," I laugh, mostly in relief.

There's such a profound burden lifted off of my shoulders, I could cry. I _do_ cry. I cradle my daughter as close as I can and let a few tears fall.

Haymitch is okay. Thank god he's okay.

!

The trip to District 13 feels like forever.

Moving around is still painful, so I stay in my seat the entire time. There is a lot of shaking and jerking, and every bump is excruciating on my recovering body. By the time we touch down, I'm doubled over in pain.

When the doors open, Gale instructs someone to bring a wheelchair for me. I'm in such agony that I don't try to argue. When I stand to get into the wheelchair, I feel like I'm being ripped apart below the waist. Peeta and Gale ease me down into the chair and Prim sets the baby back into my arms. She's sleeping peacefully. I hold her close to me as we are wheeled into this foreign place

Gale takes the back of my chair and slowly walks me down the ramp leading from the hovercraft. I have to close my eyes from the pain. I don't know what exactly happened to my body during the ride over here, but it's nothing pleasant.

"I'm taking her to the hospital wing," Gale tells someone as he pushes me.

"No!" I yell and accidentally wake the baby. She starts to scream immediately.

"I need to see Haymitch. Let me see him, please, Gale?" I say frantically, hushing the baby at the same time.

"You need to be examined by a doctor. You had a baby in a dirty bunker for christsakes," he replies.

"Gale, if you don't take me to Haymitch right now, I'm going to put an arrow through your foot the next time I see you," I seeth, absolutely furious that he is trying to control what I do.

He actually laughs at this.

"That's the Catnip I know, can't take no for an answer. I'll see if a doctor can meet us in his room. How does that sound?"

I nod in agreement and turn my attention back to the screaming child in my arms. Her face is red with fury and her eyes are squeezed shut. I pat her on the bum a few times and start to sing an old lullaby that my father sang to us when we were little. She quiets almost immediately. I continue the song while Gale pushes me silently. I'm not sure where everyone else went.

"I never could get you to sing for _me_," he teases.

"You aren't as cute as her," I joke back.

"Ouch, that hurt, Catnip,"

"I'm sure you'll live," I retort.

I've missed this back and forth banter with Gale. I can't believe it's been almost a year since we've been able to spend time together. I've only seen him a few times in passing since the marriage reaping, since I came home from the Capitol with Haymitch.

Gale snorts and pushes me a few more feet before asking an orderly to open the door for us. I take a moment to look around and realize that we _are_ in a hospital.

"You lied to me," I growl at him, trying not to raise my voice again for my daughter's sake.

"Did not," Gale says as he pushes me into the room.

And that's when I see _him._

Lying in the bed in front of me is Haymitch.

_Haymitch._

His eyes are half-closed and he looks sick, almost drunk, but he's here. He's alive.

He looks up at me and a wide smile breaks out on his lips. Gale pushes me next to his bed and I stand up, despite my aching body. Carefully, I ease down onto his bed with our child in my arms and throw myself at him as much as I can without squishing the baby.

"It's been too long, Sweetheart," Haymitch chokes out into my neck. I've never heard him so emotional. He wraps his arms around us and I lay my head on his shoulder, taking in the scent of him. Beneath the hospital smell is Haymitch's natural musk.

It reminds me of home.

"Too long," I whimper back.

!

(Haymitch POV)

I wrap my arms around my wife and all of the tension seems to drain out of my body. The boy didn't lie to me. She's safe and alive. She's here with me.

"It's been too long, Sweetheart," I barely croak out. I bury my face in her neck and relish in the feel of this woman. I didn't think I'd ever get to hold her in my arms again.

"Too long," she cries back. I pull away from her after a few moments and look between us. The kid is here.

Holy shit, it's finally here.

_My kid._

"I see you've brought someone with you, Sweetheart," I say, surveying the child in her arms. Katniss hands the child over before wiping the tears off of her own cheeks. I immediately start taking in every feature of the baby's face; chubby cheeks, a tuft of light blonde hair, a nose that looks much like my own.

"It's a girl," Katniss tells me, smiling widely at the sight of our daughter in my arms. Suddenly, laughter bubbles up inside of me and bursts out. It's joy, pure joy I feel as I stare at this tiny person in my arms. I didn't think it was possible to love in the way I love this little girl right now.

I bring her up to my shoulder and hug her to me, one hand on her bottom and the other on her tiny head.

She's perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

"Oh, little Sweetheart, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I whisper to her, unable to stop anything in my head from coming out, "Your old man waited so long to meet you."

I pull her away from my shoulder and hold her out in front of me to get another look. This child is like liquor. I could spend the entire day looking at her, evaluating her, loving her, drinking her in.

"A fat baby, just like I wanted. Well done, Sweetheart,"

"You're the one who kept me fed," she replies, laughing a bit at the memory of all the strange cravings she indulged in before the food shortages.

"What's she called?" I ask.

"I thought we could name her River, after your mother."

I look down at her and think of her as a River.

It fits. I never was a very good swimmer and I feel like I'm drowning in how much I love her.

"River is a good name. It's a Seam name," I say quietly. I bring her up to me and kiss her gently on the forehead. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I've heard before that new babies have a distinct smell, but I never believed it until now.

Shit, I'm turning into a big old sap.

For a while I just hold her, looking back and forth between her and her mother. Katniss looks exhausted. There are bags under her eyes and her skin is pale white. In all of the excitement, I didn't really have a chance to look at her critically until now. She looks sick.

"You feeling okay, sweetheart?" I ask her quietly.

Katniss shifts a little in her chair and sighs, "The hovercraft ride was rough. My body's still trying to heal from her birth, I suppose."

"I should have been there," I voice with frustration. I should have been with my wife to greet our girl when she was born. These rebels and their damned false promises.

I feel cheated.

"I called out for you a lot," She says softly, refusing to look up at me, "I was mad at first, you know. But Peeta told me you tried to come back for us. He said you were hurt but he wouldn't tell me what happened to you."

"Peacekeeper got me," I grunt, trying not to remember how much it hurt to be shot. My right leg is still wrapped up and far from healed. Just the thought of it makes the pain come back. And my left leg is a similar story, though the pain I feel is in the part that is gone. I remember Chaff mentioning phantom pains before. If he made it here, we'll be like two crippled peas-in-a-pod.

"What do you mean? They tried to take you?" She asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I try to distance myself from her emotionally. It'll be easier to tell her this way.

"Shot me is more like it," I say, before quickly adding more of the story to make it sound better. Sweetheart doesn't need to feel sorry for me, "I tried to go back for you and the bastard shot me a few times in my legs. Nothing I couldn't handle though," I remark, giving her a bit of a cocky smile.

"You were shot trying to save me?" She questions, looking vulnerable, before grabbing the edge of the sheet on my legs and lifting it up before I can react.

She pulls it up all the way before her mouth drops. A hand shoots up to cover her mouth and tremors take over her body. The look of horror on her face is too much for me to handle. Dammit, I should have told her sooner. Katniss isn't big on surprises, especially the bad ones.

"Your leg is gone. You lost your leg trying to save me! Your leg is gone. Oh my god, your leg. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Haymitch, I love you, I'm sorry," she sobs, panicking and half-screaming. The sight of my injury is clearly too much for her. There's not much I can do to comfort her with our daughter in my arms.

"Hey, shhh… none of that, baby," I reach up to cup her face in my hand, "Don't do that. Don't say sorry. You didn't shoot me and you definitely didn't take my leg. I went after you because I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want to lose _her_. Little did I know at the time that the boy was just going to have to save my ass _and_ yours," I joke.

"Peeta saved you," she says between gasping cries.

It's not really a question; more like a realization.

"Yeah, he did. He's a good kid,"

"He is," She replies, still weepy, and puts her own hand over mine on her face, "but he's no Haymitch. Not even close."

I grin at that. She's half-hysterical and emotional from the circumstances, but she still finds a way to let me know she's in this with me, 100 percent.

Honestly, I had half-expected her to check out of this relationship the second she landed in 13. I wouldn't be able to hold it against her. It's not as if we came to be married by traditional means. We were forced. Here, in 13, she's free now to have whoever she wants.

If that freedom doesn't tempt her and she still wants to be with me, who the Hell am I to deny her that?

I'll take any amount of time I can get with these two girls.

"Did you hear that, little girl? Your mother is getting soft on me," I whisper to the baby.

Katniss flicks me in the head.

All I can do is laugh.

**Sigh… I'm glad they are together again.**

**Thanks again to everyone who has cared to engage with me about this story in the last few chapters. If you have the time, I would love a review for this one as well. They make me motivated to write so much more.**

**Next chapter will involve the start of Katniss' involvement in the war, a bit of Peeta-centric drama and a few adorable moments involving a newborn and a pug names Pug. 3**


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning: this chapter may trigger.**

I wake up to a subtle knocking on our hospital room door.

I should be accustomed to the constant stream of people coming in and out, checking on River, asking if I'm healing well, monitoring Haymitch's pain, giving me antibiotics for the infection I developed in the bunker, dropping off bland meals and constantly invading our space, but I'm not. I never will be. The sound of intruding knocks and the turn of the doorknob sends my heart racing. When it's just the three of us, we are all safe. I don't really trust anyone in 13.

Our unwelcome visitor opens the door a crack and light pours in. I squint in pain and shield River's eyes with my hand. If she wakes, she will cry and fuss for hours. It will wake Haymitch. Our peace for the night will be completely disrupted and I'm not willing to give up on my rest just yet.

"Hello, Mrs. Abernathy. My name is Boggs. President Coin asked me to speak to you."

Even though he whispers, I shush him. River doesn't stir.

"I'll wait in the hallway," he says before slipping out.

I guess I have no choice in the matter. I set River down in her hospital crib as gently as I can and shake Haymitch awake. He startles at my touch and grabs my face in a panic.

"What's wrong? What's going on?" he chokes out, looking around the room in distress. When his eyes land on our daughter in her crib, he calms a bit.

"The president sent someone to fetch me… I'll be back as soon as I can," I whisper.

He squints at me in the darkness. I can see the trepidation on his face. It makes him look older.

"Be careful with these people, Katniss. You have to remind them that you're a mother. You didn't flee the district to become a mascot for their cause."

I nod and peck him, slowly, sweetly on the lips before tip-toeing from the room. I peek back in one last time to see my little girl sleeping peacefully.

"Sorry for waking you," Boggs says as we walk to the elevator.

"I assume it wasn't your idea. Don't worry about it. It's not like a baby requires much work, right?"

Boggs clears his throat uncomfortably and opens the door to the lift. We both get in before he speaks again.

"The President has been waiting to meet you. She wanted to give you time to heal first-"

"-three days? Is that enough time to heal?" I question, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I'm in a terrible amount of pain, but I'm not about to tell him that. I won't show weakness in front of these people.

"Don't shoot the messenger," he grumbles.

We don't speak again.

When the elevator opens, I step out first, surveying the area quickly. The walls are dark grey. One of them is covered with a large screen. There are dozens of computers, all different shapes and sizes. A large conference table is covered in papers. It's hard to see the color of the tabletop through all of the clutter.

There are about 10 people sitting around the mess, Peeta included. He's occupied by a sheet in front of him and doesn't notice me yet.

Boggs clears his throat and the room quiets with all eyes turning to us, to me.

"Mrs. Abernathy, my name is Alma Coin, I am the president here in District 13. It's nice to finally meet you," a grey-haired woman calls out. She stands up and walks over, pulling me into a friendly embrace.

I tense at this stranger's touch and resist the urge to pull away.

"Please, have a seat. I know you are still recovering from the birth of your daughter. Congratulations, by the way."

The room erupts into claps at her words and I offer up a small smile. The only free chair is next to Peeta and he rises up to pull it out for me. I settle in and have a few deep breaths, taking comfort in Peeta's presence. He is the only person here that I trust.

"I'm sure you are wondering why we brought you here," she says.

I nod and rub the sleep from my eyes once again. I already know that they want to use me. I'm just not sure to what extent.

"When you saved Mr. Mellark from the whipping post, you ignited the nation. You became a symbol for rebellion and defiance against the Capitol. Snow tried to convince the districts that you were a hysterical pregnant woman, but he failed. People were already angry about the games, the marriages, the children… They just needed the courage to take action. You gave them the courage," she tells me proudly.

"That was never my intention," I explain, "I just wanted to save Peeta. I never tried to start a rebellion."

"But you did help to start it and now the districts are finishing it. They are warring against the Capitol, Katniss. When the tributes jumped from their platforms, the uprisings began in full force. Both sides have seen fatalities, but the rebel districts are holding on. One, two, five, six and ten are still under Capitol control, for the most part. We need to convince them that it will be in their best interest to join our cause," she explains.

I think I know where this is going.

"You think I can do that?" I ask.

"You and the other victor pairs. And your lover, of course."

"I'm sure Haymitch will have insight," I tell her.

"I wasn't speaking of your husband," she laughs and gestures between Peeta and I, "The reaped marriages are voided in District 13. You are free to pursue a relationship with Mr. Mellark now and we will use your relationship as a tool to show the hold-out districts that they can be free without the Capitol. Free to love, free to marry who they want, free from the Games. We have it all planned out," she smiles.

I gape at the woman. She thinks I'm going to leave Haymitch for her, raise my daughter with Peeta and marry him to satisfy her agenda.

This woman assumes that my marriage is still a sham.

9 months ago, she was right. It was all just a way to survive, a way to save the people I love.

But now, I think about Haymitch lying in his hospital bed, clearly in pain, but smiling through it as he holds our little girl in his arms, bouncing her gently to calm her piercing cries. I think about the way he protected me through my pregnancy, through every moment of weakness and depression; how he saved me when I jumped in front of Peeta at the whipping post, how he held me as I stared at the Capitol baby on the monitor and cried, picturing my own little one being ripped from my arms, how he fed me, held me, loved me. He saved me over and over and over again. He rescued me from myself and the world. He made me laugh and cry and scream and hope and feel things I never wanted to feel.

He made me _love him._

"I can't-," I choke out, "I can't do what you're asking."

She furrows her brow and looks quizzically at the other officials in the room, clearly at a loss. I spare a moment to peek at Peeta next to me. He knew my decision prior to this meeting. A small nod and smile from him give me strength.

"You don't have to stay with him for your child's sake, Mrs. Abernathy. Haymitch will retain all of his parental rights to her whether you are married or not," she replies slowly.

"I'm not doing this for her... This is my choice," I affirm.

"Katniss, I'm giving you the chance to be with the man you love," she implores. I take a deep breath, knowing that I have to step out of my comfort zone in order to make this woman understand.

"I'm with the man that I love."

A murmur rises up around the room, but I don't waver in my resolve. I won't be torn away from my life to please this woman I hardly know.

I appraise her for a moment. Her gaze is questioning and cold, her eyes smolder with something deeper than concern. She's angry, but she's good at covering it up in front of other people. That's a warning sign that I quickly note and store away to think about later.

"You're sure?"

"Positive," I nod, more confident in this decision than any I've made before.

She clears her throat and gives me a forced smile, "Well, this certainly changes things. We'll need to develop a different strategy, I suppose. Go get some rest and we will speak soon. Boggs, please escort Mrs. Abernathy back to the hospital."

I struggle up out of the seat and wince in pain at the soreness below my waist. When I get on my feet, the urge to vomit takes over and I have to sit back down to control it. Between my nerves, my lack of sleep, the pain of birth and an infection, I don't know if I can make it back to my bed.

"Commander Boggs, please go get a wheelchair from the hospital wing. She's obviously not well… And if everyone would give me a few moments alone with Katniss, I would appreciate it," the President requests. Everyone quickly exits the room and I'm alone with the powerful woman for the first time.

"I'm going to be frank with you, Katniss. We need you for our efforts. The districts will listen to you. They will follow you."

"I'm a mother now," I tell her, thinking of the chubby little girl waiting for me in my room, "I need to be with my daughter."

"I understand. But what do you think will happen to her if the Capitol wins? Do you think they'll allow your family to live peacefully in District 12? No. They will kill you. They will kill Haymitch. Your entire family will die. And if they don't kill your daughter, they'll throw her into the Games. ..There is a lot at stake here," she warns.

I know she is right. She's using these scenarios to manipulate me, but she's completely correct. If Snow wins, he will most definitely have me killed. Haymitch as well. River will be killed or thrown into the games. He all but promised it when I defended Peeta at the whipping post.

Just as I am about to reply, Commander Boggs comes back with a wheelchair. Both he and President Coin have to help me into it. By the time I'm situated, I'm so exhausted and in pain that I can barely speak.

"Please think about what I said, Katniss, and know that my door is always open. I hope you feel better soon," she waves goodbye as Commander Boggs pushes me through the door. I close my eyes and fall asleep the moment we are in the elevator.

!

When I awaken, I'm in my hospital bed with no recollection of how I got here. The crib next to me is empty.

"Where's River?" I croak at Haymitch, who is squinting at a book

"Your sister's had her for the last 4 hours," he tells me nonchalantly, "The doctors are worried that your infection isn't clearing up. They want you sleeping more and they are giving you different medication."

"Isn't she hungry? I need to feed her." I reach for the button next to my bed to call Prim. Haymitch stops my hand and shakes his head.

"You can't feed her on this medicine, sweetheart. She'll have to drink formula for the next few weeks."

My heart drops. _I can't feed my baby._

The one thing I can do for her is feed her. They can't do this.

"Then I won't take the medicine," I argue, "Go get me my baby."

"Katniss, it's not an option," he tells me.

I refuse to take that as an answer. I yank the tube out of my arm and its contents spray all over the bed. Prim runs into the room within a minute, holding River in her arms.

"Katniss, what are you doing? You have to keep these in," she lectures.

"I need to feed River. Give her to me, Prim," I yell, feeling as if I'm about to lose control.

"You can't feed her on these medications. Once your infection-"

I interrupt her, screaming now, "I'm not taking them anymore. Please let me have her. Please give me my baby! Don't take my baby! Give her to me!"

My breaths come out in shallow, panicked gasps as I desperately reach for my daughter. When Prim finally sets her in my arms, the tension drains from me almost immediately. I look her over and realize that she's okay. Her eyes are open and she's looking around curiously, most likely startled from my screaming, but fine otherwise.

The thought of her being withheld from me was too much to handle. I hold her close, smelling her sweet baby smell and trying to calm the frantic pounding of my heart.

When I finally look up again, Prim is sitting at the bottom of my bed with a worried expression.

Haymitch is squinting at me. He's worried too.

"W-When can I feed her again? When will it be safe?" I question Prim.

"Your infection has to clear up first," she whispers, "It will be at least a week, maybe longer."

I hate how sad and unsure she sounds. I want to apologize for my outburst, but the feelings are still so raw.

"Until then, the nurses will bring formula. It's almost as good as feeding her yourself. And it's just for a little while," Prim coos while reattaching the tubes I ripped out. When she's finished, she gives me a hug and whispers, "I'm not mad. Please don't feel bad. I have to feed Pug and check on Rory."

Oh god, I forgot about Rory. Poor Rory is trying to cope with the death of his brother. Gale too. And Hazelle! Poor Hazelle lost her child. I've been so wrapped up in my own life that I haven't even checked in on them since Vick died. And Prim has been hiding my dog for me too, while trying to comfort her grieving husband. I'm horribly selfish.

"Please tell him that I'm sorry about Vick. Tell everyone I'm so sorry," I tell her in a small voice.

"I will… It's okay, Katniss. They know you're sick and busy with River," she replies with a soft, sad smile.

When she's leaves, I cast a glance over at Haymitch. He's staring at me with his brow raised.

"Coin visited while you were sleeping. She told me about your _conversation_," he begins. I fiddle with the small blanket that River is swaddled in and try not to look at him, "She found a solution to their dilemma problem… They want you to pretend that you are with Peeta for their propaganda."

I swallow deeply and stare down at my baby. Pretending that I'm with Peeta will make the districts trust me. It'll help us win the war and she will be safe. It will keep everyone I love alive. I have to make a final decision based on what will save the people I love.

"Do you think that's for the best?" I ask him. I can't imagine he likes it much, but I have to hear him say it. He looks down at River and nods his head. He's doing this for her too. Everything is for her.

"Yeah, I do. Snow believed that forcing you to be mother would make you weak, unthreatening to him. He didn't realize that it could be used against him. People think you are strong because you stood up to the Peacekeepers. Snow didn't believe any of this could be used against him. Now there is an actual rebellion going on, a chance to overthrow him and the Games, and people are looking to you for inspiration. If he wins, he'll use us as an example. Her, too… We have to do everything we can to prevent that from happening. Pretending that you are reunited with Peeta will motivate the districts. Between your strength and his charisma, the districts will be eating out of your hands." Haymitch smirks at me before continuing, "You'll still be sharing my bed. I'm not worried."

I roll my eyes at him and laugh. Leave it to Haymitch to make light of this situation.

"Plus, I'm the one who knocked you up," he whispers conspiratorially, winking in my direction before swinging his leg over the side of the bed and grabbing his crutches, "that has to count for something."

"Feeling territorial, Haymitch?" I tease.

"No, I just have to remember that you chose _me _when Coin's minions force you and Peeta to play house on camera." He stands up, grunts in pain from both of his leg injuries and hops over to the far side of my bed on his crutches. I scoot over to make room and he settles next to me. Wordlessly, he scoops Rivers out of my arms and cradles her for a few minutes before saying anything, "I love you, sweetheart. Both of you… This shit is going to get messy, but try to remember that I love you."

!

After two weeks of constant medication, I'm cleared to leave the hospital with Haymitch and River. I'm also cleared to feed her again, which is a huge relief. Even though I'm allowed to leave, I'm having a lot of other issues. I've been diagnosed with two conditions, one called post-partum depression and one called post-traumatic stress disorder. I have weekly appointments at the hospital so they can monitor my mental state.

I can't keep track of how many times a day my mood shifts. I sleep terribly, even when I'm exhausted. I have nightmares of River being ripped apart by mutts in an arena or sliced up by a fellow tribute. I wake up screaming and have to comfort her back to sleep as well. I cry at least 10 times a day, mostly in secret when Haymitch is at physical therapy. The pain is so deep sometimes that I don't remember how to breathe. At those times, I have to give River to Haymitch, close my eyes and just survive.

We are assigned to a family room across from Prim and Rory, not too far from the Command Center, which I believe is not a coincidence. All district 13 administrators and authorities have left me alone for the last two weeks, but I know the quiet won't last long now that I'm discharged.

Prim pushes me in a wheelchair to our family compartment even though I beg her to let me walk. Haymitch walks next to us with crutches, very slowly, and my mom carries River close behind.

"You don't have to do what they say, you know," Prim whispers in my ear as we walk. I've told her my reservations about pretending to have a relationship with Peeta and she's not happy that they are expecting so much from me with a new baby.

"We have to win this war, Prim. All of us will die if we lose,"

"Well, at least ask them for something in return. If they need you so bad, they'll negotiate, right?" Prim points out.

I'm quickly learning that my baby sister is a brilliant strategist.

Our new home is nothing special, but there is a lock on the door that I find comforting and a small window to the outside world, which I didn't expect. There is a large bed with bland sheets and a black comforter, a gray crib, a changing table, dresser and a television on the wall. There is also a small bathroom that is so white that it's almost blinding. The bags we brought from 12 are stacked on top of the dresser, providing some of the only color in the room. There is also a small basket of toys on the shelf under the changing table, a gift from President Coin. I don't particularly appreciate Coin as a person at this point in time, but I'm sure River will enjoy the gifts when she's old enough to play with them. It was a thoughtful gesture.

A few minutes after we settle in, mother and Prim excuse themselves back to the hospital. Prim promises to bring Pug over in a few hours. I haven't seen him since we left the bunker and I miss him terribly. Our family won't be complete until he's home with us.

When everyone leaves, I begin my search.

"What are you looking for?" Haymitch asks me grumpily. Both of his legs are causing him pain and I know he's trying not to snap at me.

"Cameras. Microphones, maybe," I explain, pulling out every drawer in the dresser, inspecting every piece of furniture and inch of the wall, the entirety of the home until I'm satisfied. I knock on the walls, listening for hollowness; stomp on the floor to make sure there isn't anything hidden from me.

"That's stupid. Stop making so much noise, you're giving me a headache," he grumbles back.

I ignore the jab and finish my search until I'm satisfied that we aren't being monitored. I'm so tired of living under constant surveillance.

"Wow, you didn't find anything. I'm _shocked_," Haymitch snarls at me. I grit my teeth and try to remind myself that he's suffering.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my back facing him and try to come up with a list of negotiations before I speak with Coin again.

I'll request to be kept out of battle. I have to be present for River, so being away for months at a time isn't an option. And Prim should be exempt too. These people will want to use her for her medical expertise and she's an adult, but I can't bear the thought of her being in danger like that.

They won't be allowed to use my child for their cause. I won't let them corrupt her like Snow wanted to. She won't be on camera. There won't be photos of her. She won't be involved in the propaganda. And they can't pretend that she is Peeta's. I won't have the world believing that she isn't her father's daughter. It's not right.

I get to keep Pug in my room. They'll have to give me a leash or something to let him outside. And food. Toys, too. I may as well ask for a lot. I'll only get one chance to negotiate.

I can only work in small chunks. I'm still a mother, first and foremost.

I hope I don't have to fight them too much to get what I am asking.

River breaks my train of thought with angry little whimpers. I waste no time picking her up and trying to find the problem. I change her diaper and start to feed her, which calms her right down. Her face is bright red from fussing and I inspect her as she suckles on me and eats. I love her chubby cheeks and the way they bounce slightly as she eats. She's so much more than I ever expected. The longer I carried her in me, the more I knew I loved her. But the sheer amount of love and adoration I feel when I look at her now is overwhelming, every single time.

"I love you so much. Momma loves you so much," I whisper to her.

I turn around and spare a glance at Haymitch, who appears to be staring at the back of my head. His facial hair is growing quite rapidly, and it makes him look even more serious than usual. He's wearing a long gray jacket and a pair of matching pants, which seems to be the dress code on 13. The dress pants sag where part of his leg is missing, and I am reminded that Haymitch has had a more stressful month than me. He's adjusting to having one leg, being a father, having no access to liquor and joining the war. He's in constant pain and it's difficult for him to get around. And he missed River's birth, which I know haunts him. He's always so good at being strong for me but I know one person can only take so much.

"Can you believe we made this perfect little thing?" I say to him, so in awe of our daughter.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. This shitty world will corrupt her soon enough. They'll ruin her, or kill her. Probably both," he sneers.

The pure malice and bitterness in his words makes it hard to breathe. He's right. They _will _kill her. She's not safe here. She's not safe anywhere, as long as we are in war, as long as Snow lives, as long as I am a symbol for something. Even if we win, she's not safe. She'll never be safe from all of the evil around us. The small room starts to feel even smaller; the walls feel as though they may cave in on me. I start to shake and I know I have to put her down; I have to get away from her before my emotions start to make me unstable.

I jump up from the bed and set River down in her crib as quickly as possible. She whines at the sudden movement, but I don't wait to see if she'll settle. I bolt out the door as quickly as possible.

I sprint through a dozen empty hallways until I see a room with a sign that reads, "Keep out". I open the door with no hesitation and see that there is a large boiler inside. It's hot, but I don't care. There is a closet in there and I stumble in, struggling to breathe, trying so hard to calm down.

_My daughter is going to die._ Haymitch knows it, Coin knows it, Snow knows it, I know it. I brought a perfect little girl into a wicked, cruel world that is going to kill her.

I should do it myself, to show her mercy.

I really should.

But I can't. I can't. I can't kill her.

Or can I?

If it saves her from the fear of the Games or torture from Snow, wouldn't that be best? She can't experience that pain if she's not here. She's not a weapon against me if she's not here. She's not threatened if she's not here.

Am I selfish if I _don't _kill her?

I ponder these haunting thoughts alone in the closet of the boiler room for 22 hours. I'm in a catatonic state when Gale finds me.

"Catnip? Are you in here?" He calls out. I hear him, but I feel so far away. I can't answer, "I see her! She's here, I see her. Katniss, are you alright? Talk to me. Catnip, talk to me! Something's wrong with her. Something is really wrong with her!"

He picks me up effortlessly and carries me out into the hallway. Peeta is there. So is Prim. Rory, too. Everyone crowds around me, but their words sound like nothing. I can't move, even though the bright light burns my eyes and I want to shield them. There have been other times that I lost myself, but never like this.

"You never should have discharged her. She wasn't ready," I hear my mother say. It's one of the only clear sentences I can make out. Gale takes me to the hospital and I feel him set me down on a bed. I watch as a doctor injects my arm with a sedative. Against my will, my eyelids droop and I lose consciousness.

Silence in my mind, at last.

!

"Your mother is sleeping and it's my fault," I hear Haymitch say. He's talking to River in a sweet voice, but it's laced with pain, "when she wakes up, your old man is going to treat her like a queen. Do you hear me, River? Your momma will wake up and she'll be okay."

I want to open my eyes, but it's so difficult. I struggle for a few moments and feel wetness on my face. It's a tongue.

_Pug._

My sweet little puppy and my baby girl are waiting for me to wake up. I have to do it for them. I force my eyes open and lift my hand up, so slightly, to scratch him behind the ears. It's difficult and my hand shakes painfully with the effort. I blink over and over to clear my eyes, and when I regain focus, I see him sitting over me with River swaddled in his arms.

His neck snaps up when he sees me move. The look on his face is pure emotion; relief, exhaustion, fear, love.

"How long this time?" I croak out.

"2 days. Welcome back, sweetheart,"

I don't say anything. I just stare at River. He's feeding her a bottle. She looks content.

"She'll die," I say to him, "You said it yourself. She'll die… I thought about killing her myself, to save her."

Haymitch looks at me in horror.

"You could never hurt a hair on her head," he insists.

"Better me than the Games. Or Snow," I argue, unable to rip my eyes away from my baby. I want to hold her, but I'm so afraid.

"This is my fault. I egged you on. I shouldn't have done that," he says, holding her out to me, "hold her, Katniss. She needs her mother."

I take her, despite my better instinct, because I need this little girl so much. I love her so much. I'm terrified for her, I'm worried for the future, but I need her.

"No one will hurt her. She'll live a long, happy life. And we are going to make sure of it. We're going to fight," he vows. I can see the determination in his eyes. The pain and anger he felt before is now channeled into his desire to fight.

I don't say anything. I just look at our daughter and cry.

"You can't run off like that anymore. The kid needs you. Hell, I need you," He grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly. Just touching his hand sends gooseflesh up and down my arms. I missed him, though I'm still vulnerable and angry at him, "I acted like a fool, Katniss. There was no excuse. But I need you to forgive me, so I can make it up to you."

I nod at him. I'll forgive him because I understand what it is to reach breaking point. We're both trying to be parents and soldiers and patients and _human beings. _He reached his breaking point and pushed me over the edge with him. But he's my husband. We're a team. We fall down, and we get back up. We pull each other back up.He pulls me into a gentle embrace and I feel complete for a moment. River is sandwiched between us, safely held by her parents. She's content and safe from the world, and we're going to keep it that way.

**That wasn't what I expected, but it's okay. I wanted to address that Katniss has Post-Partum depression, because it's going to be important later on. There wasn't as much Pug as I wanted in this chapter, but it was supposed to be mega serious. I hope you enjoyed. Please review if you did!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed and patiently waited for this next chapter. I have no plans to abandon or discontinue this story. I hope there will still be a few loyal readers joining me for the ride.**

**If you would, please leave a review (good or bad) or even a comment about Mockingjay II. I've seen it twice and I would love to discuss it with some other die-hard fans. **

I sit under a florescent light, tucked into Peeta's side. It's uncomfortable for both of us, but the familiarity makes it easier. There are cameras pointed at us from all directions and orders being shouted left and right. It takes everything in my power to stay calm and keep my entire body from shaking.

A woman called Cressida instructs us on what to say to the cameras.

"Hello, this is Peeta Mellark, speaking to you from District 13," she reads aloud and Peeta echoes it back easily.

They go over lines for about 10 minutes. Peeta's speech mostly consists of reminding the viewers of what we've been through in the last year. He ardently tells the cameras about his loveless marriage to Delly, my forced pregnancy, his whipping and the "relationship" that we are "free to pursue" now that we are "safely in District 13".

"Wonderful, Peeta. That couldn't have gone any better! You are a natural leader! Okay, your turn, Katniss. Ready? Repeat after me, 'Peeta and I are pleading with you to join us in our fight against the Capitol…"

I try to repeat the lines convincingly but I can't manage it. Tension rises in the room as my performance gets worse with every try. Even Peeta seems restless after an hour of my constant failure.

After a particularly awful take, I glance over in the corner and see Haymitch cradling River. He is chuckling loudly and whispering in her ear. He actually finds this funny?

His laughter brings my frustrations to a peak. It's bad enough that I've been sweating under spotlights while being forced to proclaim my love for a man that is not my husband- and failing, might I add- but to see said husband receive so much joy from my discomfort is the final straw. I used my irritation to fuel me and try to do the lines one more time. Once again, I fail. Cressida calls a 10 minute break and everyone let's out a collective breath. Most of them swiftly exit the room, most likely to vent to one another about how awful I am. I don't waste a moment before I storm over to Haymitch, my face twisted in a snarl. He chuckles at my anger before setting our daughter in my waiting arms.

"I'm glad this is amusing to you, Haymitch," I sneer while rocking our daughter gently in my arms.

"Lighten up, little mother," he teases, poking me in the side.

"How do they expect me to do this? I've never been a convincing actress. How do I make people believe me? I'm not like Peeta," I whisper to him, "This was a mistake."

He puts a hand on my cheek and pats it gently, "Just think of River and how this will keep her safe. That's all you can do."

I sigh in frustration and let my eyes wander back to the makeshift stage. Peeta remains in the spot where we left off. The heartbroken expression on his face is eating me alive.

Cressida calls a minute warning and I quickly set my baby in her father's arms before heading back to the set. Behind me I hear a sarcastic whisper, "Stay alive, sweetheart."

I bite back a scathing remark and join Peeta once again. Nobody in the room will look at me aside from Cressida. She marches over to me with a confident smile.

"Okay, Katniss, we've reduced your lines. Just say_ this_ now," Cressida hands me a card, "and _please _try to sound like you mean it. Ready on 3…"

I hear the count down and take a deep breath. _I can do this. I have to do this._ I close my eyes for just a moment and remember what Haymitch told me. This, all of this, is to keep River safe and give her a life without the hunger games. That is my one and only motivation.

"Together we can fight against the tyranny of the Capitol. Join us and be free!"

Peeta says a closing line, something that I'm sure was powerful and inspiring, and everyone in the room claps. It's half-hearted, but I enjoy it nonetheless. It means we are done for the day.

"Well, this will do for now. The districts are eager to see you both and we need to capitalize on their enthusiasm. This should boost our momentum while we plan our next move. Beetee has gained access to the Capitol's broadcasting fire wall. He will take it down in a few hours and the interview will play on every television in Panem tonight," Coin informs before dismissing everyone.

We make our way back to our compartment and I practically collapse into our bed. Haymitch follows quickly after and we lay silence most of the day, taking turns playing with our little girl. She's growing like a weed and it's difficult for me. My daughter is forced to grow up during a war while her parents are hated by the most evil man in the country. I spend every second worrying that I won't be able to protect her.

There are moments when my fear completely overtakes me. When that happens, Haymitch has to take her and let me catch my breath. The fear does something else for him. His love for her actually lessens the fear.

We stay in bed for as long as we can, my head nestled into the crook of Haymitch's neck, Haymitch's fingers floating through my hair and his every breath moving me up and down, up and down. It's peaceful, almost too normal for us. How desperately I wish I could freeze us in this moment, snuggled together on a bed as a _family_.

Once she drifts into a peaceful sleep, I put River in her crib. When I climb back into the bed, I lean up and press my lips hard to my husbands. He responds by moving a hand to the middle of my back and lifting my shirt the slightest bit to tease my skin. His touch spurs my actions. I begin removing our clothes as quickly as I can. We don't have much time before River awakens, so our love-making is quick and purposeful, but more passionate than ever before. It's the first time we've been together since our daughter was born and it feels different. It's fiery and full of meaning.

When we finish, we fall asleep in each other's arms. Not once do I wonder if our act will have consequences. We should have thought twice.

!

A few days after the first propo airs, Coin informs us that the hold-out districts are slowly turning in favor of the rebels. Though I'm happy to hear the news, I'm also exhausted from waking up 8 times to a fussy child. Did I mention that my husband is suffering from intense withdrawals? My focus is torn between my family and the war, so I accept the good news with a small smile. And an accidental yawn, which effectively angers the president of District 13.

"I would like a moment alone with Ms. Everdeen, please," Coin announces after a moment.

Peeta shoots me a concerned look before exiting the room. In fact, everyone is looking at me warily. I guess I'm in for it now.

"Ms. Everdeen-" she begins.

"It's Abernathy now, ma'am," I correct her.

Each word serves as another nail in my coffin.

"Yes, Mrs. _Abernathy_. My apologies," she murmurs back to me as insincerely as a person can, "I wanted to speak with you in_ private_ because I'm concerned that your heart is not in this cause. In fact, your reaction to the good news today was… unsettling. Your performance yesterday has brought support to our cause and you are unmoved? We wouldn't want people to think that you are in favor of the Capitol, now would we?"

I gawk at her for several seconds before attempting to respond. This woman is dangerous. And she's _clearly_ overestimating me. I don't support the Capitol. I just wish the rebellion would go on without my involvement.

"I hate the Capitol," I whisper, tears flowing down my cheeks, some of them real, some embellished, "I just haven't slept much with the baby a-and Haymitch can only do so much with his injury. It's just been a difficult transition. I'm sorry if my actions have caused you to doubt me. I'm 100 percent dedicated to this cause."

Her eyes soften with my words. Perhaps she isn't heartless after all. Mission accomplished.

"I understand that you've been through Hell, Katniss. Forgive me for being harsh. I have put all of my focus into this war and I sometimes forget that there are other problems in the world. You have a newborn to care for and a husband who is now handicapped. That is a lot for any woman to handle," she takes a deep breath and gives me a small smile, "I will make sure Plutarch puts most of the work on Peeta. You'll be the face and he will be the voice. Peeta has a way with words that will be beneficial in rallying support. You will continue to serve as a symbol of the rebellion and of the corruption in the Capitol. I have no doubt that the two of you will be very successful in swaying people to our side of this war."

I express my thanks to her, knowing inside that most of her promises are moot. Shortly after, she dismisses me and I rush back to my compartment. I need to see my family. More than anything in the world, I need to hold River and smell her new baby smell.

A nap would be nice, too.


End file.
